Wicked Twisted Road
by Ellarose C
Summary: -Meet me in the airport, I'll be humming hallelujah- This is the semidaily story of two teenaged boys' adventures through Europe, accompanied by an agent and a makeup artist. USUK. Sequel to 'The Baffled King And The Idiot Hero'. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Astronaut Dreams

**July 9, 2008**

It was past midnight, but Alfred was jet-lagged and awake and _bored_. Instead of being safe and staying in Arthur's aunt's house and reading or something, he decided to explore.

An hour later, he had wandered into the Oxford campus itself, having seen barely anyone so far and comfortable in the silence of the night.

He stopped dead, however, at the sight that greeted him in the middle of the green just inside the open gate to the university.

A giant telescope was set up there – at least six feet long – pointed up at the sky, manned by one guy with shaggy dark hair, sitting on the wet grass and writing between looks into the eyepiece.

Intrigued, Al walked up to him slowly, like approaching a wild animal. He didn't look at Al, or even physically acknowledge his presence, but he said quietly, "You're welcome to sit with me and look if you'd like."

Al jumped. "Uh. Okay?" He sat down cross-legged on the other side of the telescope, gazing up at the stars with his naked eyes. The other man scooted over on the grass and patted a spot between him and the eyepiece.

"Here, it's better this way." Al crawled over the indicated spot and tentatively looked through the telescope, careful not to move it. He gasped a little at the clarity of the lens – even back in California, he'd never found such a well-tended instrument.

"It's Pluto." He looked over at the man, who smiled slightly. "He's bright tonight. I wanted to try and see his face." He sighed. "Sadly, he's a little too far away to do that."

Al snorted. "Thirty AUs isn't exactly what I'd call 'a little'." He went back to looking, and imagined he could make out the ice on the planet's surface.

"You know about stars." He seemed mildly surprised. Al shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

"What can I say? They're really cool." The man's slight smile grew a little.

"It's nice to meet someone else with that thought." He stood slowly, and he was taller than Al had thought he was bent up on the ground like that. "Would you like to see Scorpio?"

"Would I!" The man smiled and went to move his telescope a few degrees in the night sky.

It was only when dawn came and they went their separate ways – since it was high summer in England and dawn came early – that Al realized that even though he'd never asked the man's name, nor vice versa, he suddenly wanted to fill the rest of his life with stars.

* * *

><p>{AN: Yeah, this is the sequel to 'The Baffled King And The Idiot Hero'. I'll put up these little prose interludes in their own chapters, but the blog updates will be in a chapter by month. The link to the actual blog is on my profile, if you want it.

Yes, mystery man is Greece.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2011 EDIT: So uh. I actually killed the blog form of this sequel. There are two chapters of lackluster blog updates I couldn't quite bring myself to delete, but the majority of this sequel is in my almost-trademarked snippets of scenes. Personally, I believe it's for the best, but I figured you deserved fair warning.}


	2. July 2008

**JULY 2008**

* * *

><p><strong>introduction<strong>

Jul. 11th, 2008 at 11:26 PM

by **oncenthefuture**

I want to start this entire venture off by stating that this is entirely Alfred's idea and it will probably die within two weeks.

As it remains, he's looking over my shoulder now, so I have to post something. Our intentions are to use this community that he made 'a long time ago' and yet refuses to tell me _why_ as a blog log thing of our year-long trip around Europe. For those of you who aren't one of our close friends, I'm Arthur. Coming with me is Alfred, a cheesy sitcom actor, Toris, his manager, and Feliks, Toris's boyfriend. We're starting here in England. Really, the trip doesn't start until Monday, since Al's parents are still with us and I haven't left my home yet, but we bought a car and are taking the ferry to Spain then. Toris has auditions and hotels lined up at some places along the way, but not _all_ the way. From the loose schedule I saw, it looks like we'll be camping out/finding random hotels along the way and wandering between our main stopping points, starting in Spain, through France, up through the corner of Italy and Switzerland through Germany, then Benelux, back to Germany, Denmark, Germany again, up through Poland and the Baltics before spending the spring months in Fenno-Scandinavia. It won't end up being a full year, since the plan is to be back in England by May, but it's close enough to feel like it.

Anyway. Hopefully my abysmal luck with journals and Al's short attention span won't backfire and render this the only post of this journal, and I will talk to you later, however small a number 'you' might be. For now, I said what I wanted to say, so I'm going to bed.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong>who are you people<strong>

Jul. 13th, 2008 at 10:58 PM

by ****oncenthefuture****

I mean, Al said he was going to put the link to this blog on his site, but _bloody hell_. I'm now terrified I will disappoint you all.

* * *

><p><strong>Last day in England<strong>

Jul. 14th, 2008 at 2:46 PM

by ****oncenthefuture****

Well, here it is at last.

We're waiting on our ferry in Portsmouth now after dropping Alfred's parents off at the airport this morning. It leaves in two hours, and we get to Santander tomorrow afternoon. After that, the real part of the trip begins.

I have to say, I didn't expect the response I got from just the first few posts of this blog, by which I mean I didn't expect any response at all. I guess this will be a more interesting year than I thought. Thank you.

Not much else to say at this point other than from now on, I don't know how often I'll be online. Other than the hotels booked around Al's audition times, we have nothing planned along the lines of places to stay, so access to a router isn't guaranteed. If all else fails, there's a tent and sleeping bags in the boot.

I'll get around to responding to those comments on the older entries now, and by then it will probably be time to go.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong>In Madrid<strong>

Jul. 16th, 2008 at 12:18 PM

by ****oncenthefuture****

After five hours of driving, we finally found our hotel in Madrid for about the next two weeks and crashed instantly. It's gorgeous here - so much different than England, even when we're barely a day away - and the Joneses definitely splurged on this first hotel. Not that I mind.

We're going to explore a little now. Feliks wants to shop, and I'm getting this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Wish me luck.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong>The Shopping Trip From Hell<strong>

Jul. 17th, 2008 at 10:51 PM

by ****oncenthefuture****

yes, that title needed to be capitalised.

It's kind of late and I'm kind of exhausted, but I feel it's important to tell you about the horrors I have discovered in the group dynamic already.

Feliks loves to shop about as much as an actual celebrity starlet. Alfred and Toris are practiced at avoiding him when he gets in that mood. I am not.

I have spent the past few days being dragged around every boutique in Madrid, carrying bags and holding up outfits like his boyfriend _should_ be doing _for _him and getting opinions because didn't Alfred mention you were gay, right?

Sadly, his intentions are well-meaning, so I'm being forced to go along with it for now because of my crippling guilt. It does leave me footsore and irritable at the end of the day, however.

Alfred had his first audition today, which is why he and Toris had a legitimate excuse to avoid The Shopping Trip From Hell. I'll keep you posted on the results. For now, bedtime.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong>I completely forgot about this.<strong>

Jul. 21st, 2008 at 3:15 PM

by** oncenthefuture**

Sorry, loves, I got distracted and forgot about this blog completely until Al mentioned it just now.

Al's audition went well, according to him. He's supposed to learn about the callback in a few days, so we're waiting until then to leave Madrid. I slightly hate to say this, but I hope we can leave soon. Feliks has almost run out of stores in a fifteen block radius, and I don't know how much we can take in our car.

Nothing remarkable has happened, honestly. It's very pretty and we've gone sightseeing a lot, but it's nothing note-worthy enough that I remember any instance to write up here. I'll try and keep a better hold on my memory so this can actually be an interesting blog to read, but for now, that's all I have to say.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong>Al found the piano.<strong>

Jul. 24th, 2008 at 4:02 PM

by **oncenthefuture**

Or rather, he finally sucked it up and asked for permission to play the piano in the lobby.

For those of you that are here because you're his fans, you might understand why I felt this was noteworthy.

* * *

><p><strong>I did not mean to take this long to update.<strong>

Jul. 31st, 2008 at 12:11 PM

by **oncenthefuture**

Between being in a foreign country, changing cities, and server downtime, I haven't had any chance at all to update this, and I apologise.

Al didn't make the callback, although the company was nice enough to call and say that directly. It's all right by me, since I was getting tired of that hotel room anyway. We left Madrid two days ago, and since his next audition is in Barcelona in several weeks, we've begun to wander around the rest of Spain idly. The people here are lovely, and I've even picked up a few everyday Spanish phrases, which help immensely. (As a note to anyone who wants to go abroad: go to a country where either you or one of your companions knows the language fluently enough, otherwise it will be hell.) However, it'd difficult to come by free WiFi in the middle of nowhere. We've stopped for lunch at a McDonald's now with it, so I'm checking the Internet while I can.

On a related note, I know that there are a lot of (unwarranted) comments on some of the older entries in this blog. I'm sorry, but I just won't be able to get to all of them. I'll try my best, but there is just only so much time I can devote to that. If I'm a little delayed in getting back to you, just be aware that that is why.

I'll admit, the first week or so with the four of us together all the time was a little... odd. Not bad, just awkward, since I didn't really know the other two, and vice versa. Al remained oblivious to everything, of course, which actually made it easier. By now, though, we've settled in with each other, and it's going to be a good year.

Thank you for not losing patience with me. I'll try and be a better blogger from now on, even if it's just a few lines sometimes. I'll hopefully even start putting pictures up soon.

- Arthur


	3. Honey Love

**Friday, August 15, 2008**

"Let's go out."

Arthur looked up from his laptop at Alfred, who had sat up on the bed and turned off the nonsensical Spanish soap opera. "Okay. Where to?"

Al shrugged. "Find some food, walk around, sit on a bench and stare at the sky - you know. Out." He got off the bed and started digging around for his wallet and their room key. "Just the two of us."

"Well, I am getting rather hungry." Arthur checked his email one last time, closed his laptop, and pushed away from the desk. Alfred already had his shoes on and was ready to go. Arthur smiled at his impatient bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Calm down, Al, I'll be ready in a tic." Al huffed an impatient sigh and flopped down face first on the bed, spread out over as much of their queen as he could cover. Arthur sat on the corner of it to tie his shoes, then stood and looked down at Al's spread eagle form. He bit his lip against a laugh, then gave into temptation and tickled the exposed back of Alfred's knees. Al jerked away with a helpless laugh, leg kicking up reflexively, but Arthur caught it with a smirk.

"You're mean," Al told him as he took his leg back and rolled off the side of the bed and landed in a standing position.

"I know. Now come on, you're buying me dinner." He led the way out of the hotel room, ignoring Al's mumbled retort along the lines of _'I'm buying you everything'_, since they'd long come to terms with the fact that Alfred was rich and Arthur was broke, so Al would supply the money and Arthur would just have to suck up his pride and deal with it.

They knocked on Toris and Feliks's door and let them know where they were going, although they took the hint when Toris talked through the door instead of opening it that they shouldn't bother with telling them about their return later.

They left the hotel and took a random direction, entering the first place to eat they ran across. They was one of the bigger towns they'd stayed in since leaving Madrid, more of a city, so the chosen restaurant was a nicely decorated, high-class place with a patio overlooking the Mediterranean. They asked for a table outside, even though it was almost too hot for that, and didn't have to wait before they were seated. Al chatted up the waitress when they gave their order, and Arthur kicked him under the table as she laughed and walked away.

"Do you have to do that with every waitress?" Arthur snapped irritably. Al grinned and nudged his shin with his foot, not quite a kick.

"C'mon, it's harmless, and I'm just tryin' to brighten someone's day." Arthur huffed anyway. "You're just jealous you can't join me." Al smirked cheekily. Arthur raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Right, that's exactly it." Al wrinkled his nose at his sarcasm, then rested his cheek on his hand and stared out over the water. Arthur pretended to do the same, but stared a little at Al instead.

"I think I'm getting homesick already."

Arthur tilted his head a little at Alfred's soft statement. "Why do you say that, love?" Al smiled reflexively at the pet name a little, but shrugged loosely.

"Just kinda ready to stop moving, not live out of a hotel and a suitcase for a while. I mean, don't worry, I'm totally happy to be here and stuff, and it's not like I want to bail or anything, it's just..." He trailed off, closing his eyes and sighing. Arthur let himself smile fondly since Al couldn't see.

"I understand, if it makes you feel better." Al opened his eyes slowly and smiled at him with a little sad tinge to it. Arthur looked down at his hands, which were playing with his napkin. "At least you can go home if you want."

"Huh?" Arthur waited for the connection to click in his head. "Oh, right, yeah, I forgot about that. What was that full story, anyway?"

Arthur gaze jerked from his fingers up to Al's curious, friendly, warm blue eyes. He sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Only of course! Learning about you's one of my favorites." He winked and grinned, and Arthur flushed.

"If you insist - but first I need my-" Their waitress pushed through the patio doors with their drinks - Arthur a beer, Alfred a Coke - just in time.

"Perfect timing!" Al beamed at the girl as she set them down, and she smiled with crinkled eyes. They ordered with much difficulty on Arthur's part and Alfred's help, then she walked away as Al turned his attention back to Arthur. "Now spill, and no excuses."

Arthur took a gulp of his beer - a Spanish variety he'd found a while ago and stuck with for the rest of the trip - and thought of where to start. "Well, I told you that my parents disowned me when I was sixteen, right?"

"Vaguely, once."

"Well, they did." He took another gulp. "Well, really, it was more like, _'Get out of my house_,' and I was only happy to oblige permanently, although I don't think that was their original plan. Judging by the fact that they didn't try to look for me before Aunt Jo rang Mum to switch over custody, though, I don't think they cared very much." A larger gulp. "Anyway, between then and moving in with my aunt, though..." He stared at the bubbles in his beer and swirled them so they floated up in a spiral. "Looking back, it was definitely the low point of my life." He took a sip and went back to swirling. "Couch surfing isn't as glamorous as it sounds, and it cost me a lot of the few friends I had." He smiled sardonically. "Too bad the one friend I wouldn't mind losing is the only one that stayed."

"Who?"

Arthur snorted. "Francis, of course. never liked that kid." Al laughed, and Arthur smiled up at him briefly before looking back into his beer. It was easier to talk to it than Alfred about this, since he'd never wanted to talk about it ever again. Alfred deserved to know, though. "Dunno why he decided to stick around, much less help me out."

"Probably 'cause you'd do the same for him, admit it."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but let it go and instead took another sip. "Fine, maybe you're right, but don't tell him that." Al chuckled.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." They smiled at each other until Al broke the moment by groaning and sprawling back in his chair ungracefully. "Man, I'm hungry."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're always hungry."

Al laughed, but corrected him, "No, I'm always ready to eat. I'm not always _hungry_."

Arthur grinned, and Al felt his heart patter at it. "Only you would differentiate between the two."

"Lies! Matt agrees with me!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "How do you know this instantly?"

"Well, taking into account that you don't believe in our twin telepathy-"

"You're not twins, nor are you telepathic-"

"We're twins in everything but name and three days! But anyway, we might've talked about this a few times before."

Arthur shook his head with a smile. "Sometimes I wonder about you two."

"We're awesome as shit, man." They laughed and lapsed into silence. "Man, this place is pretty." He sucked in a breath of sunset air. "I could deal with living here."

"You could do that, you know."

Al waved it off with a shrug. "Nah, I'd miss English and ice in my soda. Nice to think about, though."

"Mmm. I dunno if I'd live here. Too hot."

Al grinned at that. "Reminds me a little of home, actually."

"Remind me not to move to California."

"I'll just have to move to you, then." Arthur stared at him curiously.

"Pardon?"

Alfred beamed. "C'mon, you didn't honestly think we'd just go our separate ways after this and not spend the rest of our lives together."

Arthur blushed furiously and folded his napkin compulsively. "I- I hadn't thought about it too much."

"Well, I think we've proven pretty good that we live well together, and unless something huge happens in the next few months - which I don't think it will - we'll probably be way too dependent on each other to go back to an ocean and a continent away." Arthur tried to rub away the red in his cheeks.

"You're an idiot," he said softly. Al stuck his tongue out and nudged him under the table.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot." Arthur took a long pull of his beer as Al laughed good-naturedly and found that he could see the bottom before their food had been brought out.

Shit.

* * *

><p>By the time they finally finished dinner and got their check, Arthur had worked through two beers and a shot of tequila, which put him just past the point where he cared about his actions but not quite to the point where he couldn't walk properly. Still, when they left, Al kept one hand lightly supporting his back, weaving between the tables and waving goodbye to their patient waitress across the room. She giggled, he winked, and Arthur caught the exchange.<p>

"I really wish you wouldn't do that all the time," he mumbled as they walked out into the dusky street.

"Do what?"

"Flirting with other people like that." Al decided to put off the wandering around town part of the evening and guided Arthur in the direction of their hotel. "Y'don't flirt w'me like that."

Al grinned and leaned in to say, "But, Art, I flirt with you all the time."

"Yeah, but..." Arthur paused to think, frowning. "Just shut up and take me home."

"Home's a bit far away, doncha think, honey?" Arthur meant to nudge him in the side and ended up hitting him bodily. Luckily, Alfred was significantly more solid than him, and caught him until he was stable again.

"You know what I mean, and don't call me honey."

The restaurant was only a block over from the hotel, so Al grinned in response to amused, slightly questioning stares as he walked into the lobby with Arthur half leaning on him at eight in the evening. "But honey fits you so well," Alfred responded in a low voice, shaking Arthur's shoulders lightly with the grip he had around them as they waited for an elevator. "You're sweet, and difficult, and a little sticky," he said with a laugh at the last one as he failed to get Arthur to let go completely as they entered the elevator and he pushed the button for the fourth floor. The door closed, Arthur was drunk, and Alfred made a move. "I bet you taste good, too," he hummed, ducking down to lick at the corner of Arthur's jawbone.

Arthur sucked in a breath as Alfred lingered, mouth hovering over his skin, then turned his head abruptly, hitting noses a little, but he grabbed a fistful of Al's hair and yanked him down for a kiss anyway. He stepped in front of Alfred completely, backed him up against the wall, and the door clanked open behind him.

Alfred broke away, panting and grinning, and pulled Arthur out of the elevator just before the doors closed again, pulling him by the wrist down to their hotel room, where he fumbled for the room key while Arthur slid up beside him and started kissing his neck, making Alfred almost drop the key before he flipped it the right way and swiped it open. They almost fell into the room, letting the door swing closed behind them, and Al pushed Arthur up against it, letting his hormones and instinct take over. Arthur anchored him with both hands in his hair, eyes clenched closed and kissing him desperately, not wanting to let this dream out of his arms.

When Arthur slung a leg around Alfred's, though, Alfred broke for breath, rested his forehead on his, beamed down at him. "I forgot that you're good at this," he breathed, petting Arthur's cheek with his thumb while holding their torsos together with the other arm. Arthur grinned, and Al's heart did another flip.

"You need to be more naked," Arthur said, and that was definitely the tequila talking - and the tequila that was trying to strip Al of his t-shirt. Warning bells started to go off in Al's head, that they weren't ready for this, he didn't want the first time to be when Arthur was sloshed - but Arthur had his arms over his head already and was pushing him to stumble and fall back on the bed, lying between his legs and kissing him again, holding his face in his hands. Al gave in with a laugh, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist, and Arthur shivered against him.

God, Arthur pressed against him just felt so _nice_, not just that he was meant to be there, but just that he was Arthur and he was there and present in his physical reach. He tilted his head back as Arthur ran a rough hand through his hair, which opened his mouth more and gave Arthur's tongue a whole new angle on life, and if this was what he'd been missing by pushing all those girls off of him over the years, he needed to go back and have a chat with his younger self.

Because Arthur was still drunk, of course, it wasn't long before he adjusted to straddle Alfred's hips and rut into them, running his hands down his bare chest like he couldn't get enough of the feel. It tickled a little, but that was easily overridden by the spike of _everything_ his system was undergoing.

"Christ," he cursed when Arthur pulled away to suck at his collarbone, a change which made him arch up into Arthur. He felt Arthur smirk against his skin, and nails trailed over the sensitive skin just above the button of his shorts.

"We should've done this earlier," Arthur murmured, nuzzling a little into Al's neck as he fumbled with the button blindly. Alfred slid his hands around to hold Arthur's wrists still.

"No- no, I think we're going at just the right speed." Arthur pushed himself up onto his hands to hover over Al and stare at him, unreadable. Al grinned at him sheepishly. "Let's not go too far today, please? I-" He cut himself off and turned his head to the side.

Arthur deflated, but smiled, and he bent down to kiss the hollow of Al's jaw softly. "Of course, love. But I'm going to need a shower." Al laughed nervously, voice cracking a little, and sat up as Arthur pushed himself back to his feet. Before he walked away, though, he caught his hand and wove their fingers together.

"Thanks, honey." He smiled at Arthur, but he just rolled his eyes and jerked his hand from Alfred's.

"Sappy idiot," he grumbled, stomping off to the bathroom. Al flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>{AN: A month is a long time, ain't it, folks? Don't worry, I'll try and keep the scenes coming. As it is, I'm back from Russia, but my computer's wireless card decided to die as soon as I came back, so I've been limited to a few hours on my mom's mac every day. I hate it. Also, my word docs and stuff are on my other comp, so it's been hard to write without arousing suspicion. The good news is, I've got a new computer in the mail right now (the other one was four years old, it was it's time anyway), and I'll be going back to school on Saturday. That means more regular updates and me actually being able to do some of my Internet responsibilities, too! -*cough liketheusukinkarchive cough*- what was that? I didn't hear anything...

Anyway. That will happen soon.

Hope you enjoyed Alfred cockblocking himself. It'll happen a few more times.}


	4. August 2008

**AUGUST 2008**

**Toris is now the dictator of the trip**

Aug. 1st, 2008 at 12:32 PM

by **oncenthefuture**

It makes sense. He's doing all the driving.

We've been more or less on the road for four days now. We found a larger town than normal just now, and he put his foot down (figuratively and literally, as in on the brake) and said that we're spending at least two nights here or else 'there will be blood tonight'. I think he got that particular phrase from Alfred, but either way. We're stopped in a place that promoted free WiFi (in English, no less) and he's passed out on a bed. It's kind of amusing, but we've all offered to drive at some point, but he's turned us all down. I guess he would rather wear himself out that subject himself to Al's crazy driving, my used-to-the-other-side driving, or whatever Feliks drives like (I still don't know the answer to that question).

Al and I are planning on wandering the town and seeing what there is. I think Feliks is going to stay with Toris.

Yeah, we're getting the hell out of this room soon.

- Arthur

* * *

><p><strong><span>finally<span>**

Aug. 5th, 2008 at 9:14 AM

by **alfreakingjones**

Arthur's such a hypocrite sometimes. He's been protecting this blog with his life, not letting me put ANYTHING up, but then he goes for days without updating. Seriously, what the hell.

In other words, HIIIII GUYYYYS. I've been meaning to make my first post in here, but Art's got the only comp and he _always_hogs it. Right now he's still asleep, and I know he's gonna have a pretty killer hangover when he finally wakes up, so I win.

Let's see, where did he leave off... okay, we left Toris's pit stop town yesterday and crashed our first Spanish party, which was fun until Arthur found the wine. He always told me he hated wine, but I guess Spanish wine is different or something. I do know he gets his worst hangovers with it, so this is gonna be a fun morning. I had fun, at least, and stayed sober like a good kid. Toris and Feliks had kind of loud sex, but honestly, we're kind of used to it.

Anyway, I just really wanted to say hi, and that this trip is really really awesome so far! The locals are really nice, and I'm getting really good at European Spanish, after only really having American Spanish back at home. It's nice, although that lisp gets kind of annoying when they talk too fast.

We're supposed to be in Barcelona by Wednesday. I think I'll go see if Toris is up so we can actually map it out or something, because I'm bored and it's way too early in the morning, and Arthur's starting to snore. (He only does that when he got drunk the night before, don't worry.)

Don't be strangers, guys! You're all my friends here :)

* AL

* * *

><p><strong><span>traveling around idly does not a good update schedule make.<span>**

Aug. 10th, 2008 at 5:39 PM

by** oncenthefuture**

I'm sorry, everyone, I really am trying to keep this up, it's just difficult when there's so much else going on.

It's been an interesting change in trip since we left Madrid. We've used the tents in the back three times already, even though we probably could've gotten by without camping out. Sometimes we just wanted to, although the next day's showers and beds were always that much more appreciated.

I've found that although Al is a lightweight, both Toris and Feliks are fun to drink with - almost surprisingly so, even though they're several years older than us. We've even gotten Al to try a little wine here and there, although don't worry, we don't force him into anything he doesn't want to do. We're not cruel like that. Anyway, now that Feliks is away from boutiques and I've had time to get to know him, he's much more bearable, and Toris is just as calmly authoritative as he always seemed. Surprisingly, though, one of the best side effects of this trip are the car conversations. I think one of them gave me the idea for this year's NaNo, although I'll wait and see if it sticks with me before I write more about it. It involves vampires and pirates, though.

Honestly, Spain isn't that big of a country, so after Barcelona, we won't be staying here much longer before moving on to France. Recently, we've decided to drive up the Mediterranean highway on our own time, and splurged a little bit on a hotel right by the water. It's absolutely lovely, and I hope we stay here a few more days. I'm sitting on the balcony now, the sunset to the right and I haven't felt this content with the world in a while. I'm genuinely glad I've decided to make this trip at this point in my life. I think I needed it. My battery's going to die soon, but I think I'll just let it instead of going in to get my charger. I don't want to get out of this chair right yet.

((And don't worry, I beat Alfred up good for sneaking a post on here while I was asleep. He learned his lesson.))

* * *

><p><strong><span>Heading to Barcelona<span>**

Aug. 16th, 2008 at 6:58 PM

by** oncenthefuture**

We've been dallying in this same town for days now, but finally Toris looked at the calendar and realised we'd have to hurry to make Al's audition in Barcelona. We're too late to check out tonight, but we'll leave early tomorrow and head over for at least a week there. Truthfully, I'll be a bit sad to leave this place. If I ever come back to Spain, I'm skipping the major cities and just spending a month here. If that ever happens, of course.

Feliks is starting to talk shopping again. I'm trying to find a hiding place in the boot of the car.

- Arthur

* * *

><p>{AN: Hahahahahaha, haaaah. Well, this is embarrassing.

Okay, so here's a disclaimer that I probably should have put at the very beginning of this sequel. I am historically bad at blogging. Like, seriously, even when I tried to have a diary back in elem school, it lasted like three days before I got distracted by butterflies and forgot it, and every other livejournal I've ever had never got off the ground (hotbabysitter's only a fic blog, have you ever noticed?). Honestly, the fact that this lasted over a month is rather surprising. Also, because of my ill experience with blogging, it was really not living up to the standards that I set for myself in my writing, and it showed. The scene chapters were much better received anyway, so it's not like I'm killing the darling of the Internet. So yes... I killed the blog.

The sequel is still alive and well, though! Just because the blog idea crashed and burned so quickly doesn't mean that I don't still love this universe to death and that I don't want to tell you all everything that happens. It's unfortunate that it didn't last, but I guess these things just happen. I'll go back and edit the first chapters so that future readers don't expect a year's of entries and get _this_, but for you lovelies that have followed since the beginning, you get to live through my fail in real time. I'll try to make it all up to you with every scene I wanted to write (and some that I hadn't foreseen at all). I do have their entire trip outlined, so if nothing else, I will be able to narrate what happens in a timeline.

I've literally had nightmares about informing you lovely people about this depressing change, so please be gentle? I'll make it up to you guys by posting a scene tomorrow!

~ Caroline}


	5. Minor Swing

**Minor Swing**

**September 3, 2008  
><strong>

If there was one thing the Spanish couldn't be called, it was unfriendly.

The four tourists had rolled into town and been accepted with open arms at the only inn in twenty miles, Alfred's increasingly fluent Spanish opening doors their money and foreignness didn't. Since they were the only guests that night, it being more of a large village than a town, they were given their choice of the rooms and an open invitation to the party that night. Alfred couldn't quite make out the reason for the party – it was either a wedding, a birthday, or a funeral – or a combination of them – or, as Arthur put it, simply because they were Spanish.

They did end up taking the offer after naps and showers. By that point, the sun had set, and two bonfires were blazing in the dirt stretch of summer heat outside the town. They were given too much to eat and had broken conversations in hand gestures and Spanglish – except for Al, who had five lovestruck girls at his feet by the time the dancing started.

He had a different partner for every change of pace – they weren't song changes, just dips in the everflowing music – twirling and laughing with every thick-haired girl he could. Feliks and Toris left quickly, and weeks of experience told the other two not to go to the inn for the next while, since Feliks was a screamer.

So Arthur was left scowling at the fire, swirling the last of his wine around his Mason jar while he sat on a rock at the edge of the light circle. He wasn't jealous of Al, no – he could dance with whomever he wished – but he hated himself, his prickliness, and his inability to understand Spanish and girls.

He knocked back the last gulp of his wine, and there was a girl in front of him when he brought the jar back down.

She spoke at him in rapidfire Spanish, holding out her hand and smiling. He blinked at her and set his jar on the ground.

"Love, I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, yelling something across the party. Al, his gold hair dark in the night and shining in the firelight, called over his current partner's shoulder, "Arthur, let her dance with you!"

His eyes went dishpan wide. He tried to back away, away and _run_, but she took hold of his frantically waving hands and pulled him to his feet, tugging him towards the others. He stumbled over his shoes and tried to get away, but she smiled at him, patient and pretty, and he let himself give in.

As he thought, he stepped on her feet frequently, apologised too much, sweated through parts of his shirt, and got laughed at a few times. It was good-natured laughter, though, happy to be alive laughter, and she was so nice about everything, coaching him through the coordination. He had _fun_. He lost himself in sparks and dozens of dark eyes, and two blue.

It was late – very late – but the party was still going when Arthur found Alfred at the edge of the dancing, both between partners (Arthur's first girl having gone to her boyfriend a while ago). He smiled down at him.

"Great party, huh?"

Something warm cracked open in Arthur's chest. He nodded and swallowed, throat dry. Al's head cocked to the side.

"You look a little tired, Art. You wanna go or something?"

He wanted _something_, all right – but any words that came out now would be regrettable. He nodded again, and Al smiled.

"Great, I'm getting pretty bushed myself – I'll probably crash when we get back. Lemme just tell them we're leaving and we'll head back, kay?" He smiled again and wove through the crowd, not noticing how little Arthur had moved except to track him with his eyes.

One last glass of wine couldn't hurt.

Alfred found him by the three kegs brought down for the party, draining another Mason jar. "Ready to go?"

Arthur coughed a little and set the jar in the basket of dirty glass by the kegs. "Absolutely."

They walked up the trail to the main road in silence, the subtle sounds of the festivities floating through them. Al hummed lightly along, hands in his pockets. Arthur used all his strength to keep the chest ache from spreading to his own hands.

"Sorry I didn't get to teach you like I promised," Al said as they walked between two buildings. "I wanted to, but I wasn't quite sure how they'd take it, y'know? And I kind of wanted to not get kicked out of our bed tonight." He grinned down at him, bumping their arms together. The heat in Arthur's heart exploded like lava and he snatched Al's hand on the backswing, pulling him in the alcove of a dark doorstep of a dark house, pressing him against the brick and drifting his hands up Al's neck, cupping his face, holding the ends of his hair. Al blinked down at him, breath thick. His hands settled on Arthur's waist, light but heavy, and he shivered.

"Let me do this," Arthur whispered, voice shaking and he hated it. Al nodded and made the first move, wrapping his arms around Arthur completely while Arthur surged up to kiss him desperately. Al sucked in a breath through his nose and let his eyes fall closed, opening his mouth because that's what you do in a kiss, right?

Arthur didn't argue, gliding his hands through soft gold hair and rubbing his tongue over the ridges of Alfred's palette. He slid his hips to the side and suddenly everything fit _right_, legs between legs and ribs lined up like teeth of two combs, and they gasped into each other.

One of Al's hands slid down and under Arthur's shirt, fingers splayed over pale skin. Arthur dragged their mouths apart, for a moment, for a moment – Al followed, mouth trailing down the sides of his face to his neck, holding him close. Arthur let out a sigh in time with Alfred's breath against his skin, a sigh with words.

"Thank you."

Alfred smiled, pulling at his skin with his teeth playfully. Arthur's muscles jumped. He hummed into his skin, then backed him across the doorstep to the other wall, holding their hips together with one arm and bracing the other over Arthur's head.

"Let's keep going."

Arthur grinned for the first time that night, devilish and wild. "I like the sound of that." He looped his arms around Al's neck, almost lounging against the wall, eyes glowing and half-lowered. "After all, you did promise to teach me how to dance." Al shuddered and ducked his head down into the crook of Arthur's neck.

"God, you're hot."

Arthur let out a bitter bark of laughter. "You're one to talk, love." Alfred shifted a little and he was sucking his neck, the bracing arm coming down to cup Arthur close. It was an embrace up and down, and Arthur melted, mind gone. Al smiled and kissed his mouth, brief, came back twice. Arthur held him down the last time and attacked, pressing his tongue in and he found his rhythm from a song ago. They started grinding, just they, not one or the other – and it was perfect and sloppy and wrapped up in sunshine.

They broke for air, gasping and shaking. Alfred rested their foreheads together, smile eternal, and laughed.

"Well, that was somethin'," he said, breaking the silence, and Arthur wanted to kiss him quiet, so he did. Al hummed into him, hand on his hair and sweaty skin. Arthur felt delicious, like water, and Alfred really was clumsy and awkward but that was what he needed like nothing else in his life before.

He felt the best he ever had, held in Alfred's arms like that. It couldn't last.

Alfred broke again, mouth to Arthur's temple – always on his skin. "Arthur- what are- we, we can't- I…" He curled in on himself, on Arthur, breathing only their sweat and Spanish dust. Arthur's heart fell apart.

"Yes, you're right," he mumbled, turning his face into Alfred's hair, eyes closed, mouth open. "Not yet," the wine said.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah. Not yet."

They stood like that too long, curled in each other and swimming in hormones. They heard footsteps from the bonfire direction and disentangled.

They walked home in silence, not talking not touching, and slept in separate beds facing opposite walls.

* * *

><p>{AN: As a brief explanation, I wrote this months ago, way before I thought about writing that other prose bit, and although it accomplishes much of what the other does character and plot wise, I just... couldn't bear to let this one go. This atmosphere is what I wanted to capture with this sequel trip.}


	6. Turning Tables

**September 7, 2008**

"I can't believe I actually have to spend time in Paris," Arthur grumbled as he sat down heavily on a bench next to Alfred, scowling ferociously at the fountain across the path. Al grinned at him from behind his ice cream.

"Ah, lighten up, man, we're on vacation! Enjoy yourself!" Arthur grumbled some more, unswayed, but decided to keep at least most of his further complaints in his head. They sat in comfortable silence, Alfred chewing on the wooden ice cream stick when he finished, just relishing in sitting down after a morning of walking. They'd been in Paris a few days now, enough for Alfred to go to one of the two auditions lined up for him here and for them to get familiar enough with the immediate area around their hotel for Toris to feel comfortable leaving them to their own devices. They'd wandered aimlessly after seeing the other two off on their way to a shopping district across the city and ended up a few blocks off the river at a small park with a garden and an ice cream vendor. People bustled through on their way to work, home, lunch, wherever, and Arthur and Alfred turned to amusing themselves by trying to translate the conversational French of the passersby.

And just when Arthur thought this leg of the trip might not kill him after all, the Worst Thing Imaginable happened.

Arthur saw him coming from the park gate, recognizing him even with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and a woman on his arm (especially with the woman on his arm). He scrambled up and dove behind the bench, peering through the slats of the back and not breathing.

Al leaned back to look at him, utterly confused and entertained. "You okay there, buddy?"

"_Shh! I don't exist! And stop acting so suspicious!_" he hissed, not taking his eyes off the couple walking towards them.

'_Please turn right, please turn right, please turn right_,' he chanted in his head. Al shrugged and went back to biting his ice cream stick into shreds. Arthur threw a side prayer that Al would forget what Francis looked like.

Of course, he forgot the universe hated him.

They turned left to circle the fountain. Al ran out of suitable wood to chew and looked up. He beamed and waved while calling, "Hey, Francis! Over here!"

Arthur groaned and hit his head repeatedly on the bench.

Two sets of expensive shoes walked toward them. "Alfred, I never expected to see you here, of all places!" Francis's voice said. Arthur fought with himself on how he could come out from behind the bench the least awkwardly, if he would have to at all. "Are you here alone?" _Shit_.

Al laughed. "Nah, Arthur's back here," he said, leaning back to poke Arthur in the shoulder. Arthur swatted the hand irritably, then sighed and straightened in his crouch so he was on his knees, resting his arms on the back of the bench as carelessly as he could manage. Francis was shaking with laughter, biting on the fingers of the hand not looped around the woman's arm to keep himself in check. Arthur scowled his worst at him, which only served to make him lose all control and burst into hysterics, leaning on the woman for support. She giggled, too, although not nearly as inappropriately loud, while Al just grinned like the cat with the canary.

"I hate every last one of you," Arthur snapped, standing up and crawling over the top of the bench to sit down right. "Except for you, love," he said with a nod to the woman, "you're just as much of a victim in this as I am – after all, _that_ is your escort." He gestured at Francis with a disgusted hand-wave, who was wiping at his eyes with his scarf.

She smiled. "He buys my food, so I manage." She talked with a heavy accent, predictable since they were in Paris with a Parisian as her partner, but her English seemed decent, and she wasn't Francis's usual, with glasses, a mass of dirty blonde hair pulled into a side braid, and dimples.

Francis had recovered himself at that point and stood up properly, still with his arm entwined around hers. "Oh, I have been terribly rude. Gentlemen, Arthur, this is Monique Grimaldi." She ducked her head in a nod at both of them, her smile still deep in the corners of her mouth.

"Alfred Jones, it's nice to meet you!" Al said, standing and shaking her free hand. She smiled, this time in amused surprise at his bluntness. Two months in Europe, and he still hadn't caught on that Europeans were never as forward as Americans.

"Nice to meet you as well." He smiled stepped back enough that she could turn her attention to Arthur, who was still sitting on the bench. "And you _must_ be Arthur." Arthur raised an eyebrow at the tone, then tilted his head at Francis, who was straightening his long sleeves with an intense focus.

"Have you been _talking_ about me again, Francis?"

"I have no earthly idea what you're implying, Arthur."

"Well, it only makes sense, since Arthur never shuts up about you sometimes," Al said casually. Arthur kicked his shin, and Francis smiled slimily at Arthur (at least, as he perceived it). Alfred ignored the exchange completely and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "So, where're y'all headed?"

"Francis was taking me to lunch between clients – I dress hair just a few blocks that way," Monique explained, gesturing back the way she came. She smiled up at her arm candy, then bit her thumbnail on an idea. "Would you two like to join us?"

Both Francis and Arthur stiffened, but before they could gather their wits enough to rebuke the idea, Al grinned and replied, "Sure, that'd be great! I'm always up for food!" She smiled and unwound herself from a still shell-shocked Francis and switched to Alfred, who chuckled and let her hook their arms together and start to lead them on through the park. "So, a hairdresser, huh? You'd probably really like Feliks, then."

"Who's Feliks?"

"He's my manager's boyfriend – they went out shopping today, but he's completely into your sort of thing." They walked on, talking about Toris and Feliks, leaving Arthur and Francis to follow at their own pace.

Arthur stood and pulled at the bottom of his jacket. "Still wearing that tacky thing, I see," Francis quipped, sending a disapproving look at it. Arthur sneered.

"For the record, I blame you for everything that is about to happen."

Francis snorted and raised his nose a little in the air so he could look down it at Arthur – they were the exact same height, but Francis had a tendency towards heeled shoes that always left him looking a little taller. "Likewise."

"Come on, guys, hurry up!" Al called back from the far gate, where he and Monique had stopped to wait. They both sighed and walked quickly to catch up.

* * *

><p>{AN: Yep, that just happened.

Monique is Monaco.}


	7. Best Of Luck

**Best Of Luck**

**September 7, 2008**

On a pedestrian bridge over the Seine, a blond man in a deep purple peacoat pulled a brunet in a navy suit by the hand towards the railing. The blond stopped with a lurch at the railing, the brunet catching himself with hands on either side of the blond's hips. The blond's laughter trailed off into a sigh, and he leaned back into the other's shoulder.

"I'm so glad you brought me on this trip, Toris," he said softly, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's been beautiful."

Toris smiled and leaned his cheek on the blond's hair. "Glad you think so. I can't imagine how quickly those two would've put me in an early grave without you." The blond giggled and turned in his arms, ran a hand down his face and craned up for a kiss.

"Nice to know I'm needed." They smiled at each other for a second, then the blond pushed him away slightly and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a heart-shaped padlock. "Come on, let's find an empty spot to hang this."

Toris smiled and stepped back, glancing along the already rather crowded iron designing of the bridge's railing. "I can't believe we're doing this, it's so cheesy," he said off-hand, crouching down in front of a blank hole a few feet down the bridge.

The blond laughed and handed him the lock. "Come on, it's, like, romantic and shit." Toris snorted and shifted from crouching to bended knee to save his hamstrings, biting on his tongue a little in concentration while the blond leaned on the railing and watched him with an affectionate smile.

"There we go." He leaned on his top knee and nodded once in approval, then glanced up at the blond with a smile, who felt his heart flop at it.

Toris cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, hiding the motion from the blond with his body. "Before we through that key, there's something I wanted to ask you." He turned on his knee and foot to face the blond, who instantly put his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

"Oh my God."

Toris smiled up at him and opened his hands and the small box in it to show a white gold band with three small, square-cut diamonds embedded in a row on the top. He sobbed out a laugh.

"Oh my God."

"Feliks, would you marry me?"

Feliks looked down at Toris over his hand and didn't see worry on his face, or anxiety, or insecurity, but simply happiness and adoration – for _him_. "Oh my _God!_" He was smiling deliriously behind his hand, and he let it fall away so he could fall to his knees in front of Toris and kiss him soundly, laughing into it and crying just a little, clutching his _fiancé _by the neck.

When Feliks finally let Toris's mouth go, he rested his forehead on Feliks's and smiled giddily. "So is that a yes?"

"Of course, _of course_," he breathed, twisting his fingers in the ends of Toris's hair. "I love you so much, sweetie."

Toris grinned a little uncharacteristically and hugged Feliks close. "I was hoping you'd say that!" They laughed again and pulled each other to their feet. Toris took Feliks's left hand and slid the ring on the proper finger, and Feliks sobbed again.

"This is so cheesy." They giggled again together, and Feliks wove their fingers together. "It's perfect." He sighed, then pulled his fingers from Toris's so he could fish the padlock keys from his pocket. He tossed them a few inches in the air, caught them, and grinned. "Ready?"

"Always have been, Lucky." He moved to hold Feliks from behind as he reared his arm back and threw the keys as far as he could, watching them fall into the river below. Feliks sighed again and leaned back into _his fiancé's_ chest, looking down as he twisted the ring around his finger.

"So how long have you been planning to do this?" he asked quietly.

Toris laughed. "A little while. I got the ring back in Barcelona, actually." Feliks smiled and turned his head to kiss him. "Love you, Lucky," he said against his mouth, tightening his grip briefly.

"And I love _you_." He twisted away from Toris's hold, took his hand and started to run back the way they came. "Come on, we've _got_ to go tell Alfred and Arthur – and I need to call my parents!" Toris smiled and kept up with his new fiancé's pace happily, listening to him babble about plans without a care in the world for once in a long time.

* * *

><p>{AN: Yeah, this isn't my ship and I won't claim that I've read a lot of it or anything, but it still made me smile while I was writing it.}


	8. Shut Up And Let Me Go

**Shut Up And Let Me Go**

**September 12, 2008**

Much to Arthur and Francis's chagrin, Alfred and Monique became fast friends over lunch, which meant that for the rest of their stay in Paris, they were doomed to spend time together as a group. Often times, Monique and Francis helped Al run his lines for his callback for the first audition as well as for the second one, halfway tutoring him in French while he soaked it up like the language-ready sponge he was. Sometimes they listened to Monique's stories of her adventures as an illegal bookie's daughter and, as she got more comfortable in their presence, an illegal bookie herself. The hairdressing was just a day job, even though she was good enough to land that 'day job' at a riverside salon. Arthur quickly came to understand why Francis was bothering with her, although he was just as quick to notice that neither of them seemed to be particularly besotted.

What surprised Arthur the most, actually, was Toris's reaction to the guest members of their little group. Feliks and Monique did hit it off right away like Al predicted with an hour-long conversation about jewelry sparked by Feliks's brand new engagement ring (which Alfred helped pick out, although he kept that to himself for now). The thing that would confuse Arthur until his dying day, though, was how worrywart, perpetually nervous Toris and insatiable flirt, Casanova Francis found a mutual adoration for formal wear, and would talk about men's fashion for hours whenever they could. Arthur, whose formal wear sometimes consisted of a sweater over a button-down, was baffled at how people could care about a suit's cut or pinstripes or whatnot, but to each his own. At least he'd always have Alfred and his ancient leather jacket to turn to in times of masculine desperation.

Fortunately, all of that time spent talking in increasing amounts of French with the other two seemed to pay off for Alfred. On the afternoon of his callback, Arthur was wasting time planning out his ridiculous Victorian era pirate-vampire NaNoWriMo novel in their hotel suite when Alfred burst in through the door, which sounded loud enough to leave a hole in the plaster to Arthur.

"I got the part!" he called through the rooms. Arthur rolled off the bed to his feet and poked his head into the front room, where Al was spinning around like a fool, dancing with an imaginary partner. When he saw Arthur's head, his grin turned into a beam and he swooped in, picking Arthur up bodily and kissing him hard on the mouth.

Arthur blinked in shock, but Al's mouth was gone before he could respond. Alfred spun him around twice, laughing all the while, before setting him back down on his feet.

"What on Earth has gotten into you, boy?" Arthur asked in confusion, noticing all too well how Alfred wasn't letting him go from his tight hold yet.

Apparently, though, Al was delightfully oblivious. "I got the part! They were so impressed with me this time 'round they sent everyone else home and offered me the job right there!" He couldn't contain himself anymore and spun Arthur around once more before letting him go at last. Arthur quickly stepped away to avoid any more hugging and spinning.

"Congratulations, love." Al grinned at him again, then pulled out his phone and started flipping through the contacts.

"I gotta tell Franny and Monique, they're the only reason this happened," he said distractedly, finding the contact and calling it. "We gotta go out and celebrate!"

"Wonderful." Arthur's sarcasm was swallowed in Alfred's enthusiasm, and he was able to slip back into the bedroom for a few minutes of quiet until Al finished making their dinner plans and dragged Arthur back to his feet to have an actual dance partner for the songs coming out of Arthur's shuffle on the computer.

* * *

><p>{AN: I wonder if anyone's figured out my chapter titles yet

Only Alfred and Gil are annoying enough to call Francis Franny/Frankie, fyi}


	9. Almost Cut My Hair

**September 14, 2008**

A stipulation of Alfred's new job was that he had to get a haircut.

Arthur hadn't noticed because of high exposure, but when he actually paid attention, he realized that all four of them were becoming rather shaggy. Since they were current friends of a hairdresser, they decided that they should all go ahead and get a good trim to last at least a few more months. Monique was far too thrilled at the proposition and insisted that she take care of them all herself, calling in sick to work and inviting them to her flat. She set her rolling desk chair in her bathroom while the men entertained themselves with cooking an overly elaborate dinner and watching the cooking (especially Arthur, although the only one to say _that_ out loud was Francis).

She took Alfred into her makeshift salon first, and Arthur chuckled as he pulled an exaggeratedly terrified face behind her back. He winked as he was dragged around the corner, and Arthur turned on his bar stool at the counter to see Francis giving him an odd look. He scowled at it.

"Something wrong, frog?" he snapped and Francis rolled his eyes.

"So immature, _rosbif_," he sighed dramatically, shooting back a matching nationality insult, but he didn't answer, just went back to his crepes or whatever.

Some indiscernible time later, the two of them reemerged, and all four of them stopped talking.

Al ran a hand through his new hair, smiling anxiously. "Is it that bad?" Monique slapped his shoulder.

"No, no, Alfred," Francis quickly retorted, gaze shifting from slight surprise to humored affection. "It's quite fetching, I assure you."

Arthur nodded, busy furiously fighting the part of him that wanted to pin Alfred to a hard surface and ravish him – a part of him that was rearing its ugly head with rapidly increasing frequency the more time he spent around Al.

Monique was a good hand with a pair of scissors and a razor. Alfred's hairstyle had always tended towards the teenaged-pop-star, thick, shining, and longer than it looked. Just before his new cut, it had been trailing past his chin on the sides, the slight curl that was usually nonexistent apparent at the nape of his neck.

She'd chopped it all off.

Now he stood there, sheepish and uncomfortable, tousling two inch long hair that was slightly longer on the top and somehow a darker blond than before, and despite it all, he looked _older_.

Feliks was the first to crack, coming around the counter to stand on his toes and ruffle Al's hair. "God, Monique, you're a _genius_." Al, who couldn't seem to stop smiling, bent down a little to give him easier access. "Alfie, I never knew your hair was so _soft_!" He flipped it all to one side, then the other, then shook it back to its now normal state.

"Thank you, I guess?" Al said when Feliks let him go, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"That's my line," Monique said, smiling at her handiwork before she jerked her head back towards the bathroom. "You're next, Feliks."

"Yay!" He started pouring his ideas of what he wanted on her, and Al sat down next to Arthur, who had finally brought his damned libido somewhat under control, while Toris and Francis went back to their fancy cooking.

"So what d'ya think, Art?" he asked, tilting his head sideways to run the hand of the arm propped on the counter through his hair some more.

Arthur snapped a hand out and caught his wrist. "If you stopped _playing_ with it incessantly I might be able to _tell_ you." Al squinted with his smile and held onto the counter to keep his hands away from his head.

"Sorry, it just feels really soft right now. See, feel it!" He bent his head forward, and Arthur hesitated for a moment, then reached up with one hand to brush his fingers through the remnants of his bangs, which now curled over his natural cowlick hairline. He raised his eyebrows and repeated the motion.

"What kind of shit did she put _in _there?" Al laughed and shook his head like a dog to settle it back.

"I dunno. Apparently a hairdresser never reveals her secrets." Arthur snorted. "So, do you like it?"

Arthur stared at him, memorizing that 'my entire self-worth depends on your opinion' look, and smiled. "Yes. It suits you."

* * *

><p>Arthur was last, after she'd given Feliks's thin chin-length hair layers and a swept back style and Toris a smoother, side-parted deal. When she came out to switch victims, Feliks paused in his admiring of his fiancé's new style and caught Arthur's forearm. When he gave him a curious glance, Feliks gripped his chin and stared at his face with an uncomfortable intensity.<p>

"Arthur, please, for the love of me, can I wax your eyebrows?"

Arthur jerked away fiercely from his hold. "What? No!"

Feliks persisted, jumping forward to latch onto both forearms this time. "_Please_, Arthur! Just this one time and I swear I'll never comment on them again ever! _Please!_"

"You should do it, Art!" Al chimed in, leaning back against the counter.

"I've always been curious how it would look to have those caterpillars off your face."

"Your opinion doesn't count, Francis!" Arthur's feathers were puffing up, he could feel it, but they wanted him to rip hair from his face for vanity!

"Just try it, Arthur," Toris said, clearly enjoying himself. "You never know until you go for it."

"I'm sure you'll be charming with them," Monique purred, running a hand down his bicep.

Arthur stared incredulously at all five of them, then threw his hands up in the air, disrupting Feliks and Monique's hold on him. "Fine, team up on me about it, whatever. I'll do it, if it only shuts you up!" They cheered, and he scowled. "But you better hold to that promise of no future teasing over my normal eyebrows."

They all agreed happily, and Feliks flounced out of the apartment with Toris in tow to go buy the necessary supplies while Monique took him back for phase one of his doom.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, dinner was ready, Monique was patting herself on the back for a job well done, and all they were waiting on was a third of their group to come out of the bathroom.<p>

Inside said bathroom, Arthur, now with hair short enough to make his ears and forehead feel oddly cold, was leant back as far as the desk chair would go, eyes closed as Feliks carefully applied hot wax to the underside of an eyebrow.

"Now, this'll sting, but I promise it'll, like, go away in a sec." He pressed a cloth strip over it tenderly, and Arthur was beginning to understand why he was respected in his chosen field.

Feliks ripped the wax and hair off in a quick pull, instantly pressing three fingers over the newly bare skin, clucking in sympathy as Arthur gasped and flinched.

"There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Arthur cracked his other eye and frowned at him. Feliks giggled and looked at the strip, whistled, and held it up from Arthur to see. "But look at how much I got out!"

Arthur looked at the streak of dark hair embedded in the wax and panicked slightly. "Fuck, you took out my whole eyebrow!" He frantically patted the waxed brow to make sure there was still _some_ hair there. Feliks laughed and set the strip on the edge of the sink.

"No, you've just got a buttload of hair up there." He painted more wax along the top of the brow. "Now don't fidget. If I've only got one chance at this, I wanna make it perfect."

Arthur sighed and relinquished control of his face to the crazy makeup artist for the moment. Besides, the wax itself actually felt rather pleasant, and he'd always been a little bit of a masochist.

* * *

><p>When Feliks finished, Arthur sat up and scowled at the mirror. "I look ridiculous."<p>

"You only think that now because of the redness." Feliks draped his arms over his shoulder and rested his chin on top of Arthur's head with a familiarity born from weeks of being forced together while the other two in their foursome were off doing acting and money-making things. "You look cute."

Arthur flicked his eyes up to Feliks's in the mirror. "I hate looking cute."

Feliks sighed and squeezed his arms a little in a backwards hug. "Oh, just accept that you can be adorable sometimes and let it go." He patted his ribcage and stood back to allow Arthur to stand up at last. "If anything else, I think you look fabulous."

Arthur smiled at the compliment, but schooled it away, took a breath, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Francis was the first to react, exclaiming in happiness and striding forward to take his face in his hands before he could really even register how he looked, causing Arthur to struggle and fight away. "Hold still and let me look at you!" Arthur stopped trying to squirm out of his hold reluctantly. "_And stop scowling!_" Francis squished his cheeks up to force the frown away.

"I hate you so much," Arthur muttered through the involuntary pout.

"Yes, I know." He relaxed his hold enough for Arthur's cheeks to fall back to normal and he gasped. "Arthur, my dear, you have a baby face and I never knew!"

Arthur pushed him away as forcefully as he could, shouting at him to "Fuck off!"

Francis was right, of course, and Arthur knew it. He had a soft, round face shape and big round eyes to match, which were normally buffered by shaggy hair and thick eyebrows. Without them, though, his rather immature features made him look much younger than nineteen, enough that the curse words continuously streaming from his mouth while he beat at Francis seemed inherently wrong and slightly creepy.

Al stood up and grabbed Arthur around the waist from behind, holding him back enough for a hysterical Francis to make his escape, laughing himself.

"I think it's cute," he said in Arthur's ear, which effectively stopped Arthur's sputtering and flailing. Because it was – cute, that is – if you looked past how much the outside failed to match the inside.

"Well, thank you," Arthur said in an uncharacteristically timid tone as Alfred set him back on his feet.

Both of them missed the rolled eyes and exchanged glances of the rest of the company, and the conversation settled over dinner and Al going on again about the details of his new role.

* * *

><p>{AN: Hey guys how many people forget that hair _grows_

I'm going to admit that I've wanted to write/had this in mind since I decided to write a sequel. Some sketches of what the haircuts look like are linked in my profile, like usual. I have a sketchbook full of short hair!Al, though, so if you want something else, hit me up. xD}


	10. Go Your Own Way

{A/N: For those of you sensitive, this contains physical FrUK}

* * *

><p><strong>Go Your Own Way<br>**

**September 19****, 2008**

Despite how much time Arthur and Francis were forced to spend together in Paris, they didn't find themselves alone until almost two weeks after their initial meeting.

Alfred and Toris were busy with filming and other such related things and weren't expected to be done until late. Monique had an underground gambling thing and resolutely kicked Francis out for the night, and Feliks took pity on his soul and invited him along for his and Arthur's bar crawl, but left them at the third one, complaining of sleepiness.

So that was how they found themselves drunk, together, and in a foreign city with no distracting obligations.

It wasn't a surprise that by the time the bartender kicked them out, Arthur was almost draped over Francis, slurring incomprehensible Welsh into his neck. Francis held him close with an arm around his waist as he walked in what he thought was the direction of Arthur's hotel, twisting his fist over his nose at any curious looks from passersby, who sighed and nodded in understanding.

When Arthur started biting his neck, though, he ducked them into a delivery alley behind a row of stores and pushed him against the wall, tugging at his short hair with long fingers while Arthur reciprocated eagerly, all teeth and tongue and neither would say that they missed this, the vicious island they only ever found with each other.

Francis pressed against Arthur, quick hands sliding down his neck, sides, under his shirt. Arthur cursed into his mouth and pulled his tongue with his teeth, wrenching at Francis's hair hard enough to hurt. Francis knew Arthur's body far too well; his fingertips trailed up the dips of his ribs as he kissed Arthur back just as eagerly, just as painfully.

When his hands got far up enough that he could press the heels over them over Arthur's chest and the fabric bunched under his arms slightly painfully, Arthur broke away from Francis's mouth with a gasping cry and turned his head to the side. Francis took it as an invitation to attack his jaw, his neck, not really leaving marks unless you looked closely.

"Fah-Francis," Arthur gasped, and the not-rightness of the tone broke through Francis's alcohol haze. He pulled back from his neck to gaze at Arthur, whose eyes were clenched too tightly, cheeks wet with both of their saliva and a little bit of tears.

Francis let his hands fall, pulling the shirt with them, and rested them lightly on Arthur's hips. "Yes, my dear?"

"_Peidiwech ah gaelw mi fodi_." Francis sighed and turned his face away from the wall with a gentle hand, even though he kept his eyes shut.

"English or French, _cher_, not whatever that nasty tongue is."

"_Ei fodi yen geymeraeg!_" Francis waited, and Arthur trembled a little between him and the wall. "I can't do this anymore." He finally opened his eyes, pupils dilated and a little bloodshot, and Francis saw insecurity and a little fear. He rubbed softly at Arthur's cheek with the hand cupping his face.

"It's because of Alfred, isn't it?" Arthur bit his lip and looked down and to the side. Francis sighed again and let the mood die, stepping back and unpinning him from the wall. "Come, let's walk."

They stepped out of the alleyway together, Francis's shoes and the occasional pedestrian and car the only sound for a while as he waited for Arthur to get his thoughts in order and he himself felt the alcohol slowly drain from his system.

"We both knew that this… arrangement we had couldn't last forever," Arthur began after a few blocks, voice raspy and low. Francis looked at him to see him watching his feet carefully, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"I don't even remember making the conditions for this 'arrangement', as you so tastefully phrase it."

Arthur snorted but went on, "And that didn't bother me before, when I was- I was unattached and you were, well, _you_, and we knew we would never care for each other that way, so if no one got hurt, it was all right, right?" His eyes flicked over to Francis's, searching for agreement, approval, _something_. Francis smiled and nodded slightly, even though he was getting the distinct feeling of being dumped. "But now, I – damn it, it just feels _dirty_, and - that's not saying you're dirty!" he covered quickly, and Francis wished he had _that_ on tape for when Arthur was sober. "I just feel like I'm fucking _cheating_ on him, and we're not even-" He trailed off, kicking at a lamppost as they passed by and stayed on his feet with only minor wobbling. It seemed he was starting to sober up a little as well.

Francis stopped watching Arthur's face change and looked ahead instead. It didn't hurt his softer side so much. "That wouldn't be the first time someone's told me that." Arthur snorted, then laughed, and Francis smiled and joined in.

A block or so ahead, they could start to make out the signs for the hotel.

"Alfred's young, but his is a good heart," Francis said. "Give him time and he'll come to you."

Arthur laughed, although it was much bitterer than before, and it almost choked into a sob. "I know. God knows I tell myself that enough."

He paused for thought. "He adores you, you know that, right?"

"What?"

"Don't tell me you're _that_ blind, _cher_." Arthur stared blankly at him, and he sighed dramatically. "Have you honestly not noticed how affectionate he is with you?"

"But… he's like that with everyone."

Francis nodded and shrugged at once. "To a degree, yes, but with you… it's different." His callous, slightly bitter side kept him from putting that 'different' into more words out loud, but his softer side said that Alfred looked at grumpy, unpleasant Arthur like he was the only person in the world.

He'd let Arthur figure that out for himself, however. Just because it was sickeningly romantic didn't mean that he had to help them with every step of the way.

"Oh. Well… thank you." They'd reached the hotel entrance and stopped to the side of the door. Francis stepped in front of him and held his shoulder and his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely." He nodded with those freakishly big green eyes, and Francis continued, "Most of the time I despise you, but I have never wished you chronic ill. If this is what you want, then I won't stand in your way, because, God knows why, but I've inexplicably become fond of you." He stood up a little on his toes to press a kiss to his forehead. "I hope that he makes you happy."

Arthur ducked his head in the nod that used to shake his hair in front of his eyes. "He does."

"Then I wish you all the best." He stepped back. "Now go before I regret being nice to you."

Arthur grinned. "Thanks, Francis." He turned and surreptitiously wiped at his forehead as he pushed through the door. Francis watched him go, then ran a hand through his hair and decided he'd had far too much thinking for the night and headed towards the metro station to go home himself.

* * *

><p>{AN: And that, my friends, is called a bait and switch.

This is another chapter I've been looking forward to writing since before I started writing this. Unlike many USUK fans (and probably most of you guys) I find FrUK fascinating in a relationship, just not a romantic one. This is just me expressing that belief.

Also Francis you are perfect never change}


	11. Morningstar Cafe & Genius of Love

**Morningstar Cafe  
><strong>

**September 20, 2008**

They were meeting Francis and Monique for breakfast one morning before Al and Toris had to go to the set when out of nowhere, Alfred looked up from his omelet and asked, "Y'know, Franny, you never told us what you were even doing in Paris."

Arthur snorted at what was quickly becoming his favorite name for Francis while Francis himself winced, but chuckled at the question. "It is nothing complicated, I assure you," he began in French, since Toris and Feliks were occupied with each other on the other side of Arthur and Monique. "My parents simply requested for me to grace them with my presence for a short period of time so I may continue to reap the rewards of their benefactorship-"

"So they threatened to cut you off unless you showed your face," Arthur cut in in English. (He may understand just as much French as the others, but he staunchly refused to speak in it.)

Francis frowned at him and continued in his native tongue, "And while I was here, I met Monique and swept her off her feet, and therefore decided to extend my stay." At the mention of her name, jerked her attention from her coffee and grinned at the rest of explanation.

"He was behind me in the line at the store when my card was declined and he paid for my cigarettes in return for paying for my dinner." She patted his arm as he frowned at her, but much more attractively than he had frowned at Arthur. "A true gentleman."

"Oh. Okay, then. Just curious." Alfred turned the conversation away again, and Arthur smiled internally at his attention span.

* * *

><p><strong>Genius of Love<br>**

**September 23, 2008**

Francis decided that watching Arthur's life would make him laugh until his dying day.

It was the evening of Alfred's second audition, which he'd gotten the afternoon off from filming his first success to go to, and they'd gone out to celebrate the free evening, Tuesday, and the general thrill of being alive.

Alfred didn't drink with the gusto that his older companions enjoyed, but he was easily coerced into sweet and sugary cocktails that tucked away the burn of alcohol behind fruit and artificial coloring – a coercion that Francis had a special gift with. Tonight was one of those nights, and after three of them for Alfred and four shots of gin for Arthur, it was time for Francis's favorite new development in Arthur's existence, because as soon as that first sip of alcohol started entering his system, Alfred became very… touchy.

Francis swirled his tumbler of brandy around idly, hanging it by his fingertips and leaning on his other hand as he watched them across the club's dance floor. Since it was a Tuesday and still rather early in the night, the music wasn't quite bone-shaking, and the crowd of bodies wasn't nearly suffocating. They were a few layers in, but he could still see Alfred's tousled hair and Arthur's despicable jacket through the other dancers. Since he was currently alone at their table among the dirty glasses, he had no problems simply sipping his brandy and watching the unwitting lovebirds interact.

Because they were completely fools in love. He smiled as Alfred's hair ducked down behind a group of women in a clump next to them, a few of them glancing the starlet's way – not that he noticed, of course. A moment's opening, and Francis got an image of Alfred with his thumbs hooked through the outside beltloops of Arthur's jeans, bent down to talk into his ear, one of Arthur's hands sliding up Alfred's outside arm as he followed the pull and ground their hips together to the song, stepping forward so one foot was between both of Alfred's. Then the crowd surged back in his way.

He shot back the rest of his brandy and went to order another, maybe also one for that lonely redhead at the bar. After all, Monique wasn't here, and they weren't exactly in a committed relationship, if the evidence of another presence on her bedside table and bathroom sink was any indication.

Besides, his infallible fallback of sex with Arthur wasn't an option anymore. Such a shame.

* * *

><p>{AN: Decided that these were too short and too related to warrant separate chapters.

In other words God Francis stop being so damned perfect}


	12. Come With Me

**Come With Me  
><strong>

**September 26, 2008**

"Say, Art, wanna come to the set with me today?"

Arthur looked up from his laptop at a smiling Alfred. "Can you do that?"

Al shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, sure. I asked the director yesterday, and we're not shooting anything huge anymore, so as long as you don't shout and jump in front of the camera, which I know you won't, you'll be fine." When Arthur hemmed and hawed, Alfred sighed exasperatedly and plopped down on the bed next to him, falling back so his head was in the small of Arthur's back. "Come _on_, it'll be fun! You can meet everyone and not have to hang out with Francis all day!" Arthur craned awkwardly to frown at him over his shoulder, then flipped over so Alfred's head was on his stomach instead. He sat up on his elbows and frowned again; Al smiled innocently at him.

"You're not going to leave me alone until I agree, are you."

"Nope."

Arthur sighed and pushed his head off so he could sit up and close his computer. Al cheered and gave him a quick hug from behind before jumping up to finish getting ready.

* * *

><p>Toris drove them down to the studio, but since he didn't really speak French and the crew knew Alfred well by now, he had long since stopped coming to the set every day. Instead, he dropped them off at the front doors, handing them off to a security guard before going off to spend the day with Feliks.<p>

As the security guard waved them into the building and down a very long hall past the occasional heavy door, Al leaned down to whisper in Arthur's ear, "Okay, remember that Francis isn't here, so you can talk in French without it being held over your head forever."

Arthur frowned at him. "I hate how well you know me sometimes."

Alfred laughed and pushed open the door on the right.

The set wasn't exactly a bustling hive of activity, since filming for the day hadn't begun, but there were people busy with the cameras, microphones, sets, and a curtain tucked between two different stages in the corner. At Alfred's entrance, a few people looked up and smiled. Of course they liked Alfred.

A woman with large hair and a puckered mouth came up to Alfred, her chattered French a little too fast for Arthur's unaccustomed mind to follow, and pulled him towards the curtain. Arthur trailed behind uncomfortably, feeling very out of place and invisible. Maybe he should have stayed home.

The fussy woman sat Al down in front of a mirror between a dark-haired girl and a guy with honey-colored hair. They greeted him familiarly, as did the people dressing their appearances. Arthur hovered back by the curtain, trying to hide, but Al say him in the mirror and waved him forward.

"So, guys, this is Arthur," Alfred said in French, pulling him into the conversation as much as he could with the woman running mousse through his hair. "Arthur, Maddie and Danny."

The girl laughed after her makeup artist finished her lip color. "Alfred, you are so painfully American sometimes." She nodded at Arthur in a slightly less candid greeting. "He calls me Maddie, but you may know me as Magdalena Gaspar."

"And I'm Daniel, Daniel Darca, not Danny." The other actor had bright hazel eyes that matched his hair and a toothy grin that he leaned around Alfred to flash at Arthur. "Al never shuts up about you." Alfred laughed too loudly and Arthur smirked at him through his red cheeks.

"Well, I'm flattered." Arthur leant against the counter in front of Alfred so he could face all three of them and talk while they were dressed, occasionally moving out of the fussy woman's way, who he learned was Madame Bellissard. By the time the artists deemed them ready, Arthur had picked up that they were two of the six main cast members, but the others weren't needed on the set today. The first scene of the day was with Alfred, the American cub reporter trying to get his first big story with the teenaged World War II resistance movement the show was based around, and his father, also a reporter and a secret Nazi sympathizer using his son to ferret out the details of said resistance. He was bustled off to wardrobe as Magdalena and Daniel took Arthur under their wings, showing him around and introducing him to various important cast and crew members, including the director, an energetic young Italian named Sergio Sebastiani. When they'd made a full circle, Arthur was half thinking in French and Alfred and his actor father were out of wardrobe and Sergio was doing his directing bit on the set of a purposefully makeshift journalist's office from the 1930s. Magdalena and Daniel showed him to the actors' folding chairs, which Arthur couldn't believe actually existed, so he could watch Alfred act. Arthur had forgotten that he'd never actually seen this phenomenon in person, beyond half-listening to him rehearse in their hotel room.

The crew went down to a whisper, and Sergio climbed up behind the biggest camera. "_Five! Four! Three!_" He held up the last two numbers as fingers and they started the scene.

Arthur knew the show was in French. He knew that Alfred's lines were in French, even if the scene was two Americans talking privately. He'd heard him speak in French many times before, and he generally considered it to be a repulsive language.

But.

Something about the lighting, the setting, Alfred in a tailored tweed overcoat and suspenders and a newsboy hat, the uncharacteristically serious, deep tone of his voice that the scene and the language gave him. It made Arthur's breath catch, and he couldn't look away for several moments after the first run-through ended and they went back to do it again.

"Your Alfred is good," Magdalena said low at his shoulder. Arthur nodded numbly before he registered the pronoun.

"Wait – 'my' Alfred?"

Sergio gave the countdown again, and Magdalena chuckled and leaned closer so that she could talk into his ear without the expensive boom mikes picking it up. "Arthur, if you ever heard him go on about you when you're not around, you'd agree with me." Arthur tore his eyes away from watching Alfred's enough to glance curiously at her. She grinned with the sudden light of understanding, and a little relief. "And you're the same."

He flushed a bright red and muttered about that being preposterous. Her grin faded to a knowing smile as she sat back and dropped the subject.

As they moved the cameras about for the cutaway closeups, Daniel leaned on two fingers and flashed his grin at Arthur. "So, Alfred says you're writing a book about vampires."

Magdalena perked up on Arthur's other side. "Vampire _pirates_!"

Arthur shot a furious look at Alfred, who wasn't paying him a lick of attention, but at the curious and interested gazes of the two actors, he sighed and started to explain the plot of his upcoming NaNoWriMo novel.

* * *

><p>At the end of the day, Arthur had a more concrete middle to his book, ideas for two sequels, two potential beta readers, and a new appreciation for Alfred in tweed.<p>

All in all, it was a surprisingly good day.

* * *

><p>{AN: Magdalena is long haired!fem!Portugal because I like that design, Daniel is Romania, and Sergio is Seborga. If you're familiar with me, you probably realize I reuse names by now xD

I could make such a killing from these sitcom ideas}


	13. Last Mango In Paris

**October 5, 2008**

Finally, Alfred finished filming, and they made plans to leave Paris at last, but they had one last hurdle to jump before they left.

They had a party to attend.

The studio had invited Alfred and Toris to their twentieth anniversary gala, with one guest allowed each. Naturally, they were bringing Feliks and Arthur, but the two younger boys were running into the problem of not having anything suitable to wear.

Well, Francis and Toris couldn't stand for that.

* * *

><p>Their rush-order tailored suits were delivered to the hotel the afternoon of the gala, cutting it close enough to make Toris pace and call the tailors anxiously. He let out a sigh when the room phone rand and hurried down to the lobby, not even thinking to ask one of the others for help, He was back in the room after barely five minute with an armful of plastic wrap, and he shoved them off into the bedroom to change so he could make sure the tailors did their job right.<p>

Neither of them had ever been fond of the way wearing a suit felt – Arthur too uncomfortably reminded of his childhood and abandoned family, Alfred just too uncomfortable. For the most part, these new suits felt the same, although the fabrics were much better than any of Arthur's old school uniforms.

Alfred slid the plastic off the tied-together hangers as he stripped to his boxers and undershirt, tearing the tape holding them together so he could get to the shirt beneath the suit. He'd decided that, if he had to get a suit, he was going to be as obnoxiously American as Francis would let him, so he'd picked out a navy suit with gold and red accents. As he shucked on the shirt and buttoned it, though, he frowned at the vest peering through the jacket. The red lining of it looked pinker than it had in the store.

He glanced over at Arthur, who had spread his clothes across the other bed. He already had his pants on under his shirt, and was frowning cross-eyed as he tried to tie his tie. Al grinned. "Need a little help there, bud?"

Arthur didn't even bother to look up. "I doubt you could do this any better than I could. Now get dressed, I'm digging up years of suppressed memories for this." Al snorted and took his pants off the hanger.

When he had figured out the double-breasted buttons of his vest, he jumped over to check it in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Yup, definitely pink. "This looks dumb."

"Pardon?" Arthur glanced up from his fourth attempt at his tie and stared. Alfred reined in his shit-eating grin.

Of _course_ he'd figured out what that look meant. You didn't spend over three months living with someone without noticing the signs that sometimes led to Arthur dragging him to a secluded area and kissing him senseless. He raised an eyebrows at him now, though, hands on his hips, and Arthur cleared his throat and went back to his tie.

"No, it looks perfectly fine." He cursed under his breath and pulled at the mess of his tie clumsily. Alfred sighed and stepped around the bed and quickly twisted it for him.

"Dad taught me years ago," he explained to the exasperated look from Arthur, "and I've been to church and those stupid work parties enough to remember." He straightened it and stepped back, sliding the tie through his hand on the way because it felt nice and it was fun to watch him sputter. "So yes, I _can_ do this better than you."

Arthur pushed at his chest and shoved away from him towards his bed and the jacket still there. "Yes, well, that's about all you're better at, so don't get too full of yourself." Alfred stuck his tongue out at his back and went over to tie his own tie and throw on his jacket to present himself to the other two.

* * *

><p>"So how soon can we leave?" Arthur mumbled to Alfred about five hours later.<p>

Al laughed. "Relax, man, we just got here. Take your time and enjoy yourself." Arthur scowled and sat down at one of the small tables ringing the dance floor, which in turn surrounded a circular bar. They'd gotten there fashionably late, so there was already a good number of actors, directors, producers, and other important figures in the studio with their arm candies. Toris and Feliks ducked through the few dancers to the bar between songs from the live band in the corner, and Al sat down next to Arthur to delay his inevitable beeline there, as well.

"Oh, Alfred, you came!" Al turned to see Magdalena in a red dress with an impractical amount of frills along the slanted hem and Daniel in a fedora approaching them. He grinned and turned in his chair.

"'Course I did! Had to see you one more time before we left Paris." They took the seats on either side of them, and Magdalena started a conversation about Arthur's book with him while Daniel gave Al his typical shit-eating grin. "What's with the hat, Danny?"

"What, this?" Daniel took off his hat and flipped it in the air. "It's cool, don't you think?"

Al smiled and snatched it out of the air when he flipped it again. "Well duh." He put it on and returned the shit-eating grin before Daniel made a face at him and took it back.

"You better not have lice or something, kid."

"Nah, scalp's clean and itch-free."

A poke on his shoulder. He looked and saw Magdalena, now standing between him and Arthur, holding a terrified Arthur by the shoulder. "Alfred, I'm stealing your friend for a song or two." She smirked with a glint in her eye, and Arthur mouthed '_save__me_'.

Al laughed, ignoring the odd burning twist in his stomach, and leaned back in his chair. "Go ahead, just watch your feet." The other two laughed while Arthur kicked him before being tugged up and away.

Al and Daniel sat there talking about hats and other awesome things, eventually joined again by Toris and Feliks, while Arthur and Magdalena kept dancing, consumed in a conversation and lost to the rest of the world.

Then, out of nowhere, Alfred felt hands on his shoulders and a warm presence behind him. He looked back straight into Monique's cleavage before he quickly moved his eyes to hers.

"Francis, Monique! What're you doing here?" Toris said, excited but a little nervous – a constant state for him, of course.

"Well, we couldn't very well leave you gentlemen and Arthur alone on your last night in Paris," Francis replied, sitting in Arthur's old seat and flipping back the ends of his light gray coat dramatically. Monique leaned against Alfred instead, and he studiously ignored the feel of her chest against the back of his neck.

"Besides, the security guard out back owed me money." She clasped her hands in front of his chest and rested her chin on his head, effectively immobilizing him. "Who's your friend?"

Al grinned at Daniel, who was watching the newcomers with wary amusement. "Danny, this-" he pointed above his head – "is Monique, and that-" he jerked his thumb to his left, "-is Frani-" a sharp kick and a glare- "Fran_cis_. They're friends of ours."

He let out a little 'ah' of understanding. "Don't listen to him. I'm Daniel, Daniel Darca. I'm on the show Al was on."

"Oh, of course! I remember you from that _Dracula_ remake recently."

Daniel lit up in gleeful surprise. "You saw _Rouge__Baiser_?"

Francis waved a hand nonchalantly. "A late night in a hotel room once."

"Well, for what it was, I did. It's hard to battle with the legacy it follows, of course."

Soon, the two of them were engrossed in a conversation about vampire movies, and Alfred was bored, even with Monique's bosom against his neck. She was playing with his tie while she listened to them politely, and he kept having to tuck it back under his vest or risk the fussy fidgeting of Toris, who was a lucky bastard and got to talk to Feliks instead of listen to someone else's fangirling.

When Daniel and Francis, barely paying attention to their companions between them, stood to go get drinks from the bar, Monique swayed and hummed a tiny bit to the music. "Come on, Alfred, dance with me."

"Really?" She straightened so Alfred could stand and nodded with a smile, taking his hand and pulling him towards the dancers. He laughed and let her. "Guess I don't have much choice, huh?"

"Your last night in Paris?" He tugged her close so they could mimic the position of the other dancers, and he learned her dress had an open back. "I wouldn't pass up this chance for the world, darling." She smiled devilishly up at him. He chuckled and started to lead.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without your glasses," he observed quietly, keeping to the continuous but hushed tone of the dance floor.

She smiled. "They're called contacts, Alfred."

"I know, but you've never worn them before." Her smile deepened in her dimples. "It looks nice. Well, I guess _you_ look nice."

The hand on his shoulder moved to pat the side of his neck. "You're sweet. And you look rather dashing yourself."

He grinned. "You sure it's not too pink? I thought it was red, but it looks pink now, and-"

She laughed, cutting off his rambling. "No, it fits you well, don't worry."

Al caught a flash of English in an English accent behind him, and stepped around to face it and found that somehow Arthur and Magdalena had worked their way to their area of the dance floor, still absorbed in their soft conversation. He moved his hand a little higher on Monique's back and slowly led her in their direction while keeping up their small talk.

"'Sup, you guys?" Arthur jerked, and Al could almost watch his train of thought change tracks as he blinked at him and double-took at Monique. Oh, right, Monique.

"How did "How did _you_ get here?"

"Blackmailed a security guard."

"Is Fra-"

"Yes, by the bar."

Arthur groaned and hit his head on an amused Magdalena's shoulder. "Fuck me."

The song fell to an end, and those paying attention clapped politely and most of the dancer stepped back from their partners for a moment, including Monique and Alfred. Magdalena winked at Al over Arthur's head (she was just a little taller than Arthur normally, but with her heels, that little was several inches) and patted his shoulder.

"You know, I've heard the veranda is beautiful, although it's probably deserted right now because of how cold it is out there," she hinted. Arthur perked up and stepped away.

"Wonderful idea. Come on, Al, we're going. Monique, lovely to see you." Arthur marched towards the glass doors to the side, and after Al apologized to the women and left them heading back to the table with Monique fawning over Magdalena's hair, he quickly followed.

It was dark outside, cold but still. Arthur was already leaning on the railing overlooking the spread of city lights, silhouetted against them. Al shut the door on the inside noise and walked forward to lean next to him. They were alone.

"Never in my life did I imagine I'd spend almost a month in Paris, yet here I am," Arthur said quietly, staring at the distant profile of the Eiffel Tower. "It feels strange."

Al nudged him with his shoulder. "Hey, you're almost out, so lighten up!" Arthur smiled vaguely, leaning onto the warmth of Alfred's arm, but didn't respond. Al let it be and stared at the sky until he could see stars through his fogged breath.

"You were gettin' awfully close to Maddie in there."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, she's lovely. She's a wonderful idea bouncer for my NaNo. Apparently she's studying naval history on the side."

"No kidding?"

Arthur nodded and rested his head on Al's shoulder. "It's been a very informative time talking to her. Thank you for introducing us."

"Glad I could help."

There must have been more bitterness in his tone than he intended, for Arthur shifted to look in his face, although still close enough to keep elbow contact. He smiled incredulously, exasperatedly. "Don't tell me you're _jealous_ of her!"

Al 'hmph'ed and looked the other way. "You just have so much more in _common_ with her, apparently, and she has your interests and she's older and experienced and pretty-"

Arthur stopped him with his fingers over his mouth. "Stop that, you sound like a preteen girl." Alfred grumbled and frowned under the fingers, still not looking in Arthur's eyes. He sighed and turned Alfred's face towards his. "Love, just because I get along with someone besides you doesn't mean that I'm going to throw you out of my life. You have to learn to share."

The two of them did more than 'get along', but Alfred decided not to argue that point. "I was never any good at that," he mumbled through the fingers instead. Arthur chuckled and let his hand fall away. Al caught it before he put it back on the railing, though, and threaded their fingers together, smiling at Arthur's wide eyes, sparkling with the light thrown through the glass of the doors.

"What are you doing?" he breathed, and Al shrugged.

"Dunno." He tugged him closer and craned down to kiss him impulsively. Arthur's fingers squeezed his painfully as he kissed him back, slowly, eyes closed. The angle was awkward and they were in direct view of the party, so Alfred flipped them to the side so that Arthur was between him and the railing. He flashed a grin at Arthur's eyeroll before kissing him again, holding his face with his free hand. Arthur clutched him by his tie and didn't let go of Alfred's hand, folding them between them and it felt nice.

It didn't stay that way long, of course. Arthur tugged his hand loose so he could pull at Alfred's tie, apparently much better at untying them than tying them, and started unbuttoning the shirt beneath it as the kissing pace sped up. Al wrapped his arms around the part of his torso above the balcony railing, keeping him steady and safe. "I got you," he murmured into Arthur's mouth. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, you do."

A sudden rush of noise, and they jumped apart to glare at their intruders. Francis and Daniel were laughing and leaning on each other, sloshed and too close, Francis wearing Daniel's hat. Daniel wiped his eyes and finally saw Al and Arthur through bleary eyes. "Oh, hey, Al! Nice party, huh?" He hiccuped and giggled, and Francis led him to one of the deck chairs to the side.

Francis glanced at them side-long in his annoyingly perceptive way, eyes sliding down Alfred's open shirt front. Alfred quickly started buttoning it back up. "Did we interrupt anything?"

Al opened his mouth to agree, but Arthur beat him to it. "Of course not, frog. We were just going back inside."

He raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Looking like that?"

Arthur sneered at him. "Just shut up and go back to… whatever it was you were hoping to accomplish tonight." He strode purposefully back into the party, and Alfred sloppily tied his tie and followed.

"Bye, Al! See you later!" Daniel called happily from around Francis, who had sat on the corner of his chair. He waved and decided not to ask for details.

* * *

><p>{AN: In which I fully explore my suit kink.

Also, I invented a new pairing! :D France/Romania. Who'd've thunk it?}


	14. Canadian, Please

**October 13, 2008**

**noblebeaversocks**: Hey sexy

**onceandthefuture**: pfff

**noblebeaversocks**: my idiot cousin pissed off any of the italian mob yet?

**onceandthefuture**: the mob's more southern than we are currently

**onceandthefuture**: but you'd think he had from the way he's carrying on

**onceandthefuture**: he sprained his wrist yesterday

**noblebeaversocks**: I pity you

**onceandthefuture**: thank you

**noblebeaversocks**: was he using the bed as a trampoline again?

**onceandthefuture**: hahaha no although that would've been hilarious

**onceandthefuture**: no we were playing soccer with some italians and he got bodyslammed by a girl half his size

**onceandthefuture**: and landed on it wrong

**noblebeaversocks**: pffffffff

**onceandthefuture**: which is equally as amusing

**noblebeaversocks**: remind me to never forget this

**onceandthefuture**: don't worry

**onceandthefuture**: I'll never let either of you do that

**onceandthefuture**: he wants to say hi btw

**noblebeaversocks**: tell him to suck it up and type one handed

**onceandthefuture**: I'd turn on the webcam but the internet here is shite

**onceandthefuture**: fuck you matrwer

**onceandthefuture**: sorry

**onceandthefuture**: he laid on me for a moment there

**noblebeaversocks**: sureeeee

**onceandthefuture**: he's fat

**noblebeaversocks**: you two cuddling now?

**onceandthefuture**: it took a while to heave him off

**noblebeaversocks**: sharing the same bedroom?

**onceandthefuture**: only because he's a baby

**onceandthefuture**: and it's either that or try to ignore how much toris and feliks want us to go away so they can fuck each other

**noblebeaversocks**: that's the excuse eh?

**noblebeaversocks**: wait til gil hears

**onceandthefuture**: ohgod

**onceandthefuture**: say nothing

**onceandthefuture**: please

**noblebeaversocks**: it'll cost you

**onceandthefuture**: what

**onceandthefuture**: what sort of price will I have to pay for your continued silence

**noblebeaversocks**: crash the set of one al's bad soaps

**noblebeaversocks**: and make out with him

**noblebeaversocks**: on camera

**onceandthefuture**: ...

**onceandthefuture**: have you changed genders since we last met

**onceandthefuture**: also he's currently unemployed so that might take a while

**noblebeaversocks**: i can wait

**noblebeaversocks**: its going to be a long winter

**noblebeaversocks**: might play an exhibition game in germany

**noblebeaversocks**: hint hint

**onceandthefuture**: really

**onceandthefuture**: when

**noblebeaversocks**: december

**onceandthefuture**: I think we might be in benelux for most of that month

**onceandthefuture**: but I'm sure we can take a trip to come see your game

**onceandthefuture**: scratch that, we will

**noblebeaversocks**: of course you will

**onceandthefuture**: al is actually jumping on the bed now

**onceandthefuture**: so I think we'll have to

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahaha

**onceandthefuture**: fool's going to kill himself before this trip is done

**noblebeaversocks**: nah, he's too dumb for that

**noblebeaversocks**: he'll just injure himself

**noblebeaversocks**: a lot

**noblebeaversocks**: keep him away from open flames

**onceandthefuture**: hehehe

**noblebeaversocks**: al, stop jacking off with your good hand and talk to me

**noblebeaversocks**: otherwise i'll tell your mom about that time you were 14

**onceandthefuture**: shut up

**onceandthefuture**: SHUT UP

**noblebeaversocks**: missed you!

**onceandthefuture**: if you do I'll have to tell art about uh

**noblebeaversocks**: pfft, you have nothing on me

**onceandthefuture**: sure I do

**onceandthefuture**: what about that time when we were little and you left the picnic at the gradens because you didn't want to clean up

**onceandthefuture**: and we spent like hours looking for you

**onceandthefuture**: and you were playing with the koi fish

**noblebeaversocks**: i was a kid

**noblebeaversocks**: it happens

**noblebeaversocks**: so anyway, how's the trip

**noblebeaversocks**: and i'm looking after your monster dog right now

**noblebeaversocks**: she's slobbering on the screen

**noblebeaversocks**: i assume that means hi

**onceandthefuture**: it works for now

**onceandthefuture**: did you go down to cali or did my parents drop her off at your place?

**noblebeaversocks**: dropped her off

**onceandthefuture**: that must've been a fun ride

**onceandthefuture**: how's she holding up without me

**onceandthefuture**: ?

**noblebeaversocks**: i introduced her to kuma

**noblebeaversocks**: she forgot about you

**onceandthefuture**: D8

**onceandthefuture**: MY BABY

**onceandthefuture**: DON'T FOLLOW THE WILES OF THAT BEAST

**noblebeaversocks**: mwahahaha

**noblebeaversocks**: don't worry, she's freaking eating me out of house and home

**noblebeaversocks**: you can have her back

**onceandthefuture**: she doesn't travel well

**onceandthefuture**: she gets carsick so easy the poor thing

**noblebeaversocks**: she'll live

**onceandthefuture**: you are a cruel person

**noblebeaversocks**: I didn't abandon her!

**onceandthefuture**: not yet you meanie

**noblebeaversocks**: btw, your favorite person is coming with me to germany

**onceandthefuture**: I hate you

**noblebeaversocks**: love you too

**onceandthefuture**: B(

**noblebeaversocks**: he says he wants to know if you and art have gotten to third base yet

**onceandthefuture**: whabuah

**onceandthefuture**: no!

**onceandthefuture**: god

**onceandthefuture**: ... not yet

**onceandthefuture**: but

**onceandthefuture**: don't you ever

**onceandthefuture**: ever

**onceandthefuture**: ever

**onceandthefuture**: ever

**onceandthefuture**: dare say a word

**onceandthefuture**: to anyone

**onceandthefuture**: that

**onceandthefuture**: I

**onceandthefuture**: yeah

**onceandthefuture**: but you two are sick

**noblebeaversocks**: he's reading over my shoulder

**onceandthefuture**: WHY IS HE IN CANADA

**noblebeaversocks**: my charming presence

**onceandthefuture**: GRAR

**noblebeaversocks**: and some tv show

**noblebeaversocks**: something about hockey murder

**onceandthefuture**: oh that's always the answer isn't it

**onceandthefuture**: what is he the dumb henchman again

**noblebeaversocks**: he says torture expert

**noblebeaversocks**: all i know is it involves skates

**onceandthefuture**: I will never watch this show

**noblebeaversocks**: gil says he'll never watch that weird french thing you were doing

**noblebeaversocks**: so its all good

**onceandthefuture**: hey that has nazis in it

**onceandthefuture**: so it's obviously something right up his alley

**noblebeaversocks**: uncalled for

**noblebeaversocks**: ..unless they;re zombie nazis

**noblebeaversocks**: then he's all for it

**onceandthefuture**: well you're bringing my love life into this I'll bring in gil's ancestry

**onceandthefuture**: and no they are not

**noblebeaversocks**: borign

**onceandthefuture**: well they paid me well

**onceandthefuture**: and depending on how my appearance goes over they might want me back

**onceandthefuture**: also they paid for the hotel while we were filming so that was nice

**noblebeaversocks**: king sized bed?

**onceandthefuture**: yes actually

**onceandthefuture**: it was a really nice bed

**onceandthefuture**: and the best arrangement they had for a whole month

**noblebeaversocks**: i bet it was

**onceandthefuture**: shut up

**noblebeaversocks**: you can't win al

**onceandthefuture**: yes I can

**noblebeaversocks**: nope

**noblebeaversocks**: you're like the toronto maple leafs

**onceandthefuture**: I am surprised I know enough about hockey to be extremely offended at that

**noblebeaversocks**: you're a closet hockey fan and you know it

**onceandthefuture**: it's soothing background noise

**noblebeaversocks**: and better than football

**noblebeaversocks**: ...both types

**noblebeaversocks**: why were you playing soccer anyway

**onceandthefuture**: because they were there and they asked us to join

**onceandthefuture**: it was fun until I fell

**noblebeaversocks**: by fell you mean beat by a girl

**onceandthefuture**: not beat

**onceandthefuture**: hit

**onceandthefuture**: full body hit

**noblebeaversocks**: i call that beat

**onceandthefuture**: and there wasn't a wall to catch me

**onceandthefuture**: hey you go up against her without your pads and skates and see how you fare

**onceandthefuture**: she was a beast

**onceandthefuture**: this is arthur and no she wasn't

**onceandthefuture**: FUCK OFF BOTH OF YOU

**noblebeaversocks**: thank you arthur

**noblebeaversocks**: i'll add it to the list of times al was beat by a girl

**onceandthefuture**: it's not that common goddammit

**noblebeaversocks**: its just below that vietnamese chick

**onceandthefuture**: that wasn't physical it doesn't count

**noblebeaversocks**: don't lie, you two fought

**onceandthefuture**: ... not long

**noblebeaversocks**: seriously though, short of you getting beat by a girl and acting in some weird french not zombie nazi soap

**noblebeaversocks**: what have you kids been up too

**onceandthefuture**: lots of driving

**onceandthefuture**: SO MUCH DRIVING

**noblebeaversocks**: I can't believe art lets you drive

**noblebeaversocks**: does he have a death wish

**onceandthefuture**: it's not art's decision

**onceandthefuture**: toris is the master of this trip

**noblebeaversocks**: I keep forgetting you two supposedly have responsible people with you

**onceandthefuture**: "supposedly"

**onceandthefuture**: they have increasingly come into the habit of running off and leaving us

**noblebeaversocks**: for some reason this fails to surprise me

**onceandthefuture**: well you knew toris and feliks

**onceandthefuture**: oh!

**onceandthefuture**: they got engaged

**onceandthefuture**: I don't think I told you that

**noblebeaversocks**: WAHT

**onceandthefuture**: yeah

**onceandthefuture**: I helped toris with the ring

**noblebeaversocks**: you're such a girl

**noblebeaversocks**: but that's awesome

**onceandthefuture**: I know

**noblebeaversocks**: so they going to get hitched once they're back in the states?

**onceandthefuture**: probably

**onceandthefuture**: I think they're trying to survive this before they pick a date

**noblebeaversocks**: gil wants to know if they're getting hitched back in the states

**noblebeaversocks**: his mom and toni's are

**onceandthefuture**: dunno, probably

**onceandthefuture**: haven't looked into international gay marriage

**onceandthefuture**: /haven't really asked them

**noblebeaversocks**: well there better be an open bar at the wedding

**onceandthefuture**: xDDD

**onceandthefuture**: probably considering both of them

**noblebeaversocks**: and we both want invites

**onceandthefuture**: hmmmmmmmm

**onceandthefuture**: gil will have to be heavily considered

**noblebeaversocks**: you know i'll just bring him as my 'date'

**onceandthefuture**: you two are far too comfortable with each other for being straight

**noblebeaversocks**: I'll take that as a compliment

**noblebeaversocks**: anyway, I should go

**onceandthefuture**: awww

**onceandthefuture**: why?

**noblebeaversocks**: gil needs ideas on how to hurt someone with a stick

**noblebeaversocks**: and this just isn't something I can resist

**onceandthefuture**: xDDDD

**onceandthefuture**: give him an extra hard whack for me

**noblebeaversocks**: haha, only cause its you

**onceandthefuture**: :-)

**onceandthefuture**: love ya too

**onceandthefuture**: cuz

**noblebeaversocks**: tell artie I say have fun

**noblebeaversocks**: but I hope youere miserable

**onceandthefuture**: meanie

**onceandthefuture**: FUNKILLER

**noblebeaversocks**: stupidhead

**onceandthefuture**: asshole

**noblebeaversocks**: jerkface

**onceandthefuture**: bitch

**noblebeaversocks**: american

**onceandthefuture**: canuck

**noblebeaversocks**: gilès threatening me with his skates

**noblebeaversocks**: fucking french keyboard

**onceandthefuture**: threaten him with your trick stick

**onceandthefuture**: lolol

**noblebeaversocks**: might not let him in on that secret yet

**onceandthefuture**: you've enver had to unleash the trick stick on him?

**onceandthefuture**: you have more tolernace than I do xD

**noblebeaversocks**: it helps that he actually likes me

**onceandthefuture**: why I'll never know

**noblebeaversocks**: like I said, my charming personality

**noblebeaversocks**: anyway, i'm outta hear

**noblebeaversocks**: go make out with art

**onceandthefuture**: lol hear

**noblebeaversocks**: or something

**onceandthefuture**: don't tell me what to do

**noblebeaversocks**: you know you wanna

**onceandthefuture**: you aren't the boss of me

**noblebeaversocks**: yet

**onceandthefuture**: you are going to play hockey all your life

**onceandthefuture**: you'll never be the boss of me

**noblebeaversocks has signed off**

* * *

><p>{AN: My Canadian wanted back into the writing of this story, and since our relationship is the founding thing for this entire story, I figured I should let her back in. So be prepared for more Matt.

Also, have I ever mentioned she's an awesome graphic artist? Because she's an awesome graphic artist. She made a banner for 'The Baffled King And The Idiot Hero', which I will now link in my profile. Shower her in praise in a review here and I'll pass it on!

~ Caroline}


	15. Hero Worship

**October 26, 2008**

Rome was pleasant and deceptively warm, if you looked past the dirt to the city itself. Toris and Feliks had gone to hit the boutiques – just window shopping at this point in the trip, but Feliks still thrived on it. Al and Arthur went to wander and got as far as the pub across the street, which advertised itself as Irish. Arthur picked apart the décor as a hodgepodge of British Isles and Italian football regalia, but there was a match on the TV, a full bar, and it had been ages since he'd sat down with a beer and watched a real football match. Al was doomed.

By half time, the team Arthur knew was down by one and they were almost done with their second order of chips. They were only half paying attention to the game; the other part of their attention focused on a conversation about everything and nothing – a common occurrence for them.

The game kicked off again. Al's swinging foot hooked around Arthur's ankle.

Arthur tapped the sleeve of their passing waitress and asked for the check.

* * *

><p>Over the past few months, among the language and customs they had picked up together, Alfred and Arthur had also learnt control. They no longer made out in the elevators or the hallways of their hotels, or had to duck into the shadows to cover wandering hands. They kept a normal amount of space between themselves when going home, despite what they might be feeling at the time.<p>

It wasn't an aversion tactic, though; it was simply a delay.

The door clicked closed quietly behind Alfred, and Arthur pushed him against it, holding his face and kissing him hard. Al opened his mouth instantly and splayed his hand to cover as much of Arthur's back as he could, gripping his fingers in cloth and bending his leg between Arthur's. He leant back further, pulling Arthur up to his toes, and pressed his tongue into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur pulled away with a gasp and kept his backwards momentum, drawing Al to the nearest bed and falling back on it, laughing when Al let out a surprised _'__oof!_' and caught himself on his elbows to keep from crushing Arthur. He laughed as well and bent down to kiss his smile, trace the curve of his favorite bit of Arthur. Arthur hummed in contentment and leisurely stretched his arms over Al's shoulders to cross his wrists behind him.

After several minutes of slow kissing, Arthur pulled away a little by letting his head fall back against the bed, grinning. "You're getting better at this."

"Well, I have a good teacher." They smiled at each other, drunk on proximity and contact. Arthur pushed at his shoulders until he sat up so he could push him on his back against the pillows, lying between his legs and chest to chest.

"Ready for a new lesson, then?" he breathed, running his hands through gold hair, swirling a lock around a finger. Al caught the hand and pressed his mouth into the palm, holding eye contact. Arthur shivered and returned it.

"Go for it, sweet cheeks." Arthur hit his mouth without bite, smiling through his scowl as he pulled his hand away and sat up, straddling Al's hips. He pushed off the unbuttoned button-up, letting Al shrug the sleeves off himself, and left it bunched up under his shoulders before sliding his hands under the T-shirt beneath. Alfred's hands rested over his knees, rubbing circles through his jeans, smiling slightly as Arthur explored the torso he'd already memorized. He reached up and hooked his hand around the back of Arthur's neck, pulling him down to kiss him again.

Arthur broke it before too long, tutting but not moving away. "You're getting off topic, Mr. Jones." Al laughed and rubbed their noses together.

"Sorry, teach." He ducked around to kiss at his jaw down to his neck and muttered, "Couldn't help myself." He drew up to nuzzle into his hair, grin against Arthur's ear. "You're such an inspiration."

Arthur shoved him away with a laugh and sat back. He took off his jacket and tossed it to the side as he asked, "Are you really going to keep up this bloody teacher thing?"

"Only until it gets creepy." Arthur stuck his tongue out and scooted down Alfred, sitting across his thighs instead of his hips. He unbuttoned Alfred's fly and traced his fingernails lightly along the skin just above the hem of his jeans, feeling the muscles jump. Alfred giggled and squirmed away from the feather touches, then sighed as Arthur hooked his fingers in his beltloops and tugged. He lifted his hips a little automatically, letting Arthur pull his jeans and underwear down around his ass enough to show his half-hard cock.

Although they'd seen each other naked a few times in the few months they'd been sharing a hotel room and sometimes a bed, depending on the price of the hotel, this was the first time it'd been in this sort of context. Arthur fiddled, stroking along his hipbones and not looking at Alfred's face or his growing erection if he could, waiting. Alfred just grinned, even though his face was flushed and he was breathing heavy, and sat up a little to return the favor.

Arthur jerked at the hands on his hips, blinking at Alfred's face, close again. Alfred smiled, sheepish but unfailing, and Arthur fell forward to kiss him feverishly, short. "You're ready for this?" Arthur asked, resting his hands on Al's shoulders. Al nodded, pulling Arthur's belt loose with a look of concentration that just made Arthur laugh and kiss his cheek. "You're cute, did you know that?"

Al hummed and buried his face in Arthur's neck. "Not as cute as you."

Arthur pushed him so he fell on his back again. "You're insufferable."

"All part of my charm."

Arthur rolled his eyes and grasped Al's cock, which made him curl and gasp. He grinned.

"Oh, we're going to have a lovely study session tonight, Mr. Jones."

"Okay, _now_ it's getting creepy."

Arthur laughed and stretched forward to kiss him, down his face to his neck, skipping over his shirt and switching from straddling his knees to lying between them, pushing up his shirt to trail wet kisses over his flat stomach – much less toned now than it had been at the start of the trip, but still fat-free – stopping at the dip of a hipbone. "I'm keeping myself from making a bad oral exam joke right now," he murmured into his skin before turning his head and licked the side of Al's now completely hard cock.

"_Ho-ly_ fuck." Arthur chuckled low in his throat and circled the head with his tongue. Al crossed a leg over his lower back and tipped his head back, automatically holding Arthur's hair but not forcing, never forcing. Arthur's breath washed warm over Alfred's tender skin, and he weaseled an arm under his torso to stroke his spine and hold him as the other hand held Alfred loosely at his base, enough to keep him steady as Arthur sucked on the head and tried to remember all of the tricks his bedmates over the years had taught him. If this was Alfred's first time doing anything beyond what they'd already done, he wanted it to at least not suck as much as his first time did.

And then Al thrust up suddenly, almost hitting the back of his mouth and making him tear away, coughing.

Alfred started apologizing immediately, stroking his hair and propping up on one elbow. "You okay, honey?"

Arthur pulled a face. "I'm fine. I'm not a virgin." Al's face burned and he looked away. Arthur's eyes softened. "Not that it's a bad thing, love." He rearranged himself to lie more comfortably between Al's bent legs. "Just be more careful about moving, all right?" He nodded and flopped back on his back so he could wind both his hands in Arthur's hair again, and Arthur went back to work.

He pressed deep, slow circles into Alfred's side with his free hand as he held the base of his cock in the other, mouthing along the side with only lips, trying to imagine them less chapped as if that would help. Al let out soft sounds he'd never heard from his mouth before, eyes squeezed tight and head thrown back against the pillow. Arthur smiled a little through fluttering eyes.

"We'll take this slow," he muttered, flicked his tongue at Al's cockhead, and shifted so he could start actually sucking him off like he planned.

It had been a while since he'd actually slept with anyone beyond the occasional feverish snogging with Alfred during the course of their trip, and he'd forgotten he actually rather liked this kind of sex. He massaged his free hand down Alfred's thigh, pressing for weak spots, bobbing his head with each circling of his wrist. Al's fingers were fully snarled in his hair now, jerking minutely in response to every push of Arthur's tongue against his over sensitized skin, his breath coasting along his pelvis. He replaced the leg that had slipped off of Arthur's back at some point, using it as leverage and it really was a good thing Arthur had significant experience with this. Besides, Al was rather well endowed, and the thought of their hopefully near future together, learning about this side of each other, made him shift his weight all on one side so he could reach down into his own pants, moaning a little and earning a matching one from above. He looked up as much as his position would let him, but all he could see was rumpled t-shirt, flashes of skin, and the angle of his chin. He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath and smirk, and Al looked down his body at him with dark, dilated eyes and a flushed face.

"Why'd you stop?" he panted, not letting go of his hair. Arthur's smirk grew.

"Just wanted to pause and admire the scenery for a moment. Is that such a crime?"

Al groaned in frustration and rolled his eyes. "Christ, stop telling me I'm hot and fucking blow me already." Arthur laughed and did as he was told, blowing cold air on Al's tender cock (which made him cry out in surprise and Arthur suddenly realized how quiet Alfred had been throughout the foreplay so far. He wouldn't have pegged him as the silent type, but it was certainly better than Toris and Feliks's notoriously loud sex). Al glared at him, although it was more like a pout. Arthur kissed the spot in amused apology, then went back to sucking in time with his hand pumping himself.

Alfred was obviously aching for something to touch, since the hands in his hair were massaging his scalp down to his neck, his shoes awkwardly unforgiving in his kidney. Arthur could move, could introduce Alfred to the wonderfully creative sides of sex, see just how strong his lovely boy could be, but no. He was _comfortable_ like this, stretched out between his legs, mostly clothed, with a cock heavy in his mouth. He didn't really understand it through his sexually aroused haze, but he felt kind of like he'd been wrapped up in Alfred for hours now and didn't want to leave his heated cocoon, disturb it by sticking his foot out and waking up to the cold, room temperature air. He never wanted the hitched breaths of curse words and his name ever to stop.

But Alfred was a virgin, and even someone who is practically perfect won't last then. The loudest gasp yet and a painful tug at his hair was his warning before Al was coming in his mouth. Now normally, Arthur didn't swallow, but normally he was closer to a sink and farther away from coming himself, so he forgot about that rule as he swallowed around Al's cock through the last parts of his orgasm and worked his hand faster, chafing a little and he'd have to remember to buy lube when no one was looking.

"Oh God, _Arthur_," Alfred moaned, and he wrenched his head away from his softening cock so he could bite on less important parts, like the inside of his thigh, clutching the leg close as he stroked himself until he was done.

They laid there in their scent and slight sweat, panting and idyllic. When Arthur felt like moving again, he pulled himself up so they were properly aligned. Al had a stupid grin on his face, eyes closed. Arthur reached up to stroke his cheek, realized it was the hand sticky with his own come, and switched hands. Alfred's eyes fluttered open, and his smile grew when he met Arthur's.

"Well, that was fun." Arthur snorted, laughed, buried his face in Al's neck to hide his grin. Al laughed because Arthur was laughing, arms sliding up to fall around his waist. He turned his head to kiss the nearest skin, which was the shell of his ear. Arthur's laughter faded into a hum, and he turned to meet him and kissed him properly. Al jerked away and made a face, which just made Arthur laugh again.

"What, don't like how you taste, love?" he teased. Al's face burned.

"Well, I just… just go brush your teeth or something, okay?" He turned his head and pouted to the side, although he didn't try to push him away. Arthur pecked his cheek and extracted himself from his loose grip, making a similar face at the stickiness in his pants. He stripped his lower half on the way to the bathroom, ignoring that Alfred was most likely staring blatantly at his backside, and soaked a washcloth while using the hotel-supplied mouthwash – not because Al had told him to, of course, but because he didn't like the taste, either. He wiped himself down and swiped at his mouth before rinsing the washcloth again and turning back to face the bedroom.

Alfred was lying on his side, watching him through hooded eyes, clothes still rumpled, only bare around his stomach and hips. Arthur felt his face heating up and cleared his throat, walking to the bed and sitting next to him, cleaning off the excess that he hadn't swallowed briskly, businesslike in his awkwardness.

The room was too quiet, just their breathing and the street noise several stories below but he didn't know what to say to make it better. "Change before you fall asleep," he said quietly, standing to put the washcloth back in the bathroom and maybe hide for the rest of the night.

Alfred caught his hand and pulled him down instead, chuckling at his struggling and rolling so he was spooning him from behind, nuzzling into the back of his hair. "Don' wanna," he mumbled, kissing his neck and squirming so they fit just right and _oh_.

Arthur melted into his arms more than he really wanted to, sighing in contentment and arching back into Alfred's broader chest. "Time for bed," Al yawned, hot breath on Arthur's skin, and clutched Arthur like a stuffed animal before dropping off like he always did.

Arthur smiled and, even though his bottom half was completely bare and he knew he would be cold as fuck in the morning, he couldn't bring himself to care as he tossed the damp washcloth to the floor and wove his fingers through Alfred's resting over his stomach and went to sleep as well.

* * *

><p>{AN: hehehehe I'm a bad person

Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for-

several months in the timeline of sexual experimentation before going all the way!

Also me using this story as my 50k for this year's NaNoWriMo like I did last year. I hope to finish this part (it's Act II of III btw) with that. I _hope_.

words cannot describe how intensely I wanted to call this chapter 'I Just Had Sex'

but I refrained because I don't have that song in my iTunes}


	16. Snake Devil

**October 31, 2008**

They spent Halloween night in a hostel along the Rhine River just above Switzerland, deep in the Black Forest and alone but for the owners. It was a nice place, clean and respectable, but it was Halloween in a forest that had a name like Black and Alfred had watched a scary movie marathon in the other hotel the night before.

Therefore, it was Arthur's first direct experience with a terrified Alfred.

He was staying up until midnight anyway so he could at least get the first few words of his NaNoWriMo novel down at the very beginning, just to say that he did. Toris and Feliks had gone to sleep a few hours ago – or at least gone to bed a floor up, and they weren't going to ask questions beyond that. The owner's son, a few years older than them, but friendly, had kept them company in the lobby for a while, practicing his English while they worked on their German, but he left to go celebrate the night with his friends around sunset. They went back to their room with two skinny twin beds and nothing else, and Arthur opened his laptop to read over his notes a few more times before midnight while keeping Alfred entertained with a mindless conversation.

"I can't decide if it's a good thing that we're the only ones here tonight or not," Al told the ceiling, lying on his bed with his hands behind his head. Arthur gave a hum of vague agreement, which Al took as a sign that he could continue. "I mean, it's kinda creepy and really quiet, but at least it's not like _Hostel_."

Arthur decided he wanted a handwritten outline that he could refer to when he was in the car, and rolled to the end of the bed to dig his notebook from the side pocket of his suitcase. "Which movie is that? I don't think I've seen it."

"It's gory, you probably wouldn't like it."

"Says the boy who starts crying when he sees a chainsaw, no matter what the context."

"_Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ scarred me for life, okay? You try watching it when you're actually in Texas and you're _twelve_."

"I think I missed that window, somehow."

"You're mean."

"I know."

Arthur went back to the top of his Word document and started filtering through for the important plot points of the first half that he needed to cover. Al whistled along to Arthur's softly playing shuffle to fill the silence until Arthur tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, clumped it up and threw it at him. He grinned at him and didn't stop whistling. Arthur gave up trying to stop him and went back to his last minute planning.

"If two hot Russian girls show up in the middle of the night, though, we're leaving," Al said out of nowhere. Arthur rolled his eyes; obviously he wasn't going to drop this haunted hostel movie nonsense.

"What happened in the movie to make you so jumpy, anyway?" he asked. If he didn't, he knew he'd only get snippets until Al fell asleep.

Al sat up and faced him, cross-legged and hands on his knees, launching immediately into the story. "Well, see, there were these three backpackers going across Europe, and they were around Romania or something, and so they stayed in this hostel with two hot girls they just met, and then one of them disappears and they get these weird ugly texts, and finally they find that this creepy guy they kept running into is running some kind of torture business from an abandoned warehouse, and selling stolen people to others so they can mutilate them and stuff, and there's a lot of killing and blood and stuff and cutting off fingers and it's gross." Arthur chuckled as Al's words tumbled over each other in one giant run-on sentence, watching him and barely taking in a word of it. Alfred glared at his amusement and crossed his arms with a huff. "Why are you laughing? It's freaky as shit, man. You should see it."

Arthur attempted to smooth the grin from his face, although it still lingered in the corners of his mouth. "It's just the way you describe it, love. Can't you slow down sometimes?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

Arthur shook his head. "Americans."

Al stuck his tongue out at him, and then bounced over to Arthur's bed, sitting behind him so he could wrap his arms around his waist and set his chin on his shoulder. "So what do you have planned for the background rivals of Captain Kirkland and Captain Jones?" he asked, resting his forehead against Arthur's temple. Arthur leaned back into the embrace a little, but kept writing down important plot points in a bullet list.

"Just brief mentions whenever I can work it in without being too obvious, nothing serious. They're just cameos, after all, not the main characters. I'm not that dumb." Alfred chuckled and moved so he had a leg on either side of Arthur's hips instead of hanging off the bed, and there was the just right fit Arthur was quickly becoming addicted to. "If this actually works out and it gets published and those crazy girls on the Internet don't ship them, I didn't do my job right."

Al let out a surprised bark of laughter. "We'll be sure to stalk the forums."

"Those were always my plans." Arthur leaned forward a little to reach the arrow keys and scroll to the next page before settling back into Alfred's arms. "Assuming I get through this month, of course."

"Sure you will! You've put _way_ too much thought into it not to." He gave him a squeeze and said in his life coach voice, "I _believe_ in you, Arthur!"

Arthur shoved at him with a shoulder and laughed. "Stop that, you're embarrassing." He felt Alfred smile against his ear, but he didn't respond this time, just sighed and held him close as Arthur smiled and lost himself in his alternate history universe once more.

Later that night though, after Arthur wrote down the first few paragraphs that he had memorized weeks ago and put away the laptop for the time being and gone to sleep, Alfred started shaking in his bed, hiding under the covers and trying so hard not to whimper. Arthur heard it though, and turned to face him, watching the bed shake for a moment, controlling his amusement before whispering, "Alfred, are you all right?"

He jumped a mile at the sound of his voice and sat up, brandishing a shoe he had taken from his suitcase and hidden for a weapon. Arthur pressed his hand against his mouth to hold in his laughter as Al lowered the shoe a little and gazed over at him, wide-eyed as a small child and equally as frightened.

"Can't stop thinking about that _fucking_ movie," he whispered back, breaking the innocent image. "We _are_ the only ones here tonight, right?"

"You know just as much as I do, love."

"Well, maybe we're the only ones here because they've killed all their other guests, and tonight they'll come in and take us away to their basement torture chamber, too!" Al drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them fiercely, holding Arthur's eyes from across the starlit room. He wouldn't ask verbally, but Arthur could read his body language too well by now. He sighed and scooted back against the wall, holding up the blankets with one arm. Al visibly relaxed and crawled over the three feet between their beds and burrowed in tight, treating Arthur a bit like an inanimate security blanket and twisting in him. Arthur just rolled his eyes with a smile and stroked his hair, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and letting him take comfort in his presence.

"Go to sleep, love," he murmured into his hair, kissing it and leaving his mouth there as he closed his eyes to take his own advice.

"You're the best sometimes, Arthur," Alfred mumbled back, snuggling into his skin and falling asleep instantly.

The more he lay there with Alfred in his arms though, the more his mind filled with screams coming from the basement, torn up corpses and the phantom pain of his own fingers getting chopped off creeping through his bones. Blood splattered on the walls above him in his mind, monsters were everywhere and tree branches scratched their window.

He mouthed an elaborate curse and clenched his eyes, furiously thinking about kittens and rabbits and cursing the day Alfred was born as the other boy slept peacefully and dreamlessly.

* * *

><p>{AN: thanks to my friend chocolateseasalt over on tumblr who read through this and trimmed down my excess NaNo word count because I am so far behind shit xD}


	17. The Night Before & My Jolly Sailor Bold

**The Night Before (Life Goes On)  
><strong>

**November 5, 2008**

They were in a bar in southern Germany when they heard that Barack Obama had won the presidency.

The Europeans were overall ecstatic, almost more so than the American people, glad to see the end of eight long years under the Bush administration and the shit he dragged the country through, pulling the world along. When the four of them walked into the bar after a long day of hiking in the woods in the rain, thoroughly miserable and cold, the celebrations were already underway. They got a cheer on their entrance from the drunker patrons, and upon the bartender discovering the majority of their heritages, another cheer and a free round from a group of overzealous drunks. Even Alfred couldn't say no to the local brew being shoved in their faces. Feliks took up translator, and it still freaked Al out to see the campy makeup artist speaking in the German only Toris had known he knew and drinking right along with men twice his size and in manual labor.

At the bar, Toris sat alone for a moment, Alfred and Arthur having gone to the bathroom together like girls and Feliks learning a Bavarian drinking song from the first well-wishers, playing on his PDA and sipping his beer. The Google news feeds for current American affairs were full of Obama this and Obama that, but one with California in the title drew his attention.

He thanked God that the company was paying for his international data plan as the article loaded, and he scrolled through it idly, then froze and stared in shock.

_No._

He shoved the PDA deep in his suit pocket and turned to face the counter properly, downing the rest of his beer in one gulp and waving for other one. Suddenly, the festivities behind him only made him sick.

He glanced back at Feliks, who was happy with five construction worker types and on his fifth pint, and decided he'd tell him about Proposition 8 passing tomorrow. No reason for him to ruin his night early.

* * *

><p><strong>My Jolly Sailor Bold<br>**

**November 7, 2008**

"You know, Art, I've seen some creepy shit with you in our time, but this is by far the creepiest thing you've ever dragged me to," Alfred commented as he stared up at the eerie statue of a woman with a cloak of hair on a cobblestone pedestal. They were standing on a cliff overlooking a bend in the Rhine, wind whipping dust around and the overcast skies not helping the mood of death that clung to the area. Alfred stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, hiding them against the cold, while Arthur scoffed beside him.

"It's not _creepy_, it's a _legend_. The Lorelei is no different from a Greek Siren, and you don't think they're creepy."

"I've also never seen a weird statue of a Siren with no clothes on by the cliff where she was supposed to have done all her dirty work."

"Pervert."

"Hey, this was _your_ pick of the pull off for today; I'm just pointin' out the obvious." They wandered away from the statue towards the cliff face, wind growing stronger until they got to the railing and looked down at choppy grey water, the occasional barge and tourist cruiser drifting by stories below. Al shivered. Arthur closed his eyes, taking in the gusts and the natural silence with the occasional murmurs of Toris and Feliks nearby. The sky threatened rain and it was midday, so they were alone in the Lorelei's courtyard.

"I'm basing most of my mermaids off of her," Arthur said quietly after a moment, staring down at the opposite bank. Al tilted his head, then shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah, I can see that. But she doesn't eat her victims, right?"

"No. She just sings them to their death, that's all." Al snorted and pushed back from the railing.

"Well, I'm cold, and I'm creeped out. I'll be waiting for y'all in the car." He shoved his hands back in his pockets and kicked a loose piece of concrete across the courtyard towards the small parking lot, whistling into the wind. Arthur took a few deep breaths of the cliff breeze, smiling slightly.

Feliks turned off his little camera and put it in his pocket, and Toris and Feliks headed back towards the car as well, clasped hands swinging. The blond turned and called at Arthur for him to hurry up and come with them, so he breathed in one more time and opened his eyes to walk quickly towards the car.

* * *

><p>{AN: Yeaaaaaah these updates will be coming at lightning speed this month, beware. Also I'll only update on the LJ comms every weekish so if you're depending on those to know when I've updated, be aware of that fact.

EDIT: After a reviewer pointed out that most people haven't been living half in 2008 like I have these past few weeks, I shall inform you about Proposition 8 - quite simply, a bill in California that passed the day after Obama's election that re-banned gay marriage. It is still in effect.}


	18. Shadow Proves The Sunshine & Black Night

**The Shadow Proves The Sunshine**

**November 9, 2008**

It was easy to forget that Feliks was born Catholic, but occasionally he felt inspired to go back and revel in his heritage.

They were staying in Cologne, Germany for the night and day, and as soon as they had found a hotel and checked in, Feliks made everyone change before dragging all of them to the Cologne Cathedral, not giving them a choice but to go to the evening mass. Along the way, he chattered about the history of the cathedral, including how his ancestors hid there while fleeing Germany during World War II and how it had four years as the tallest building in the world. They humored him by listening, Alfred fidgeting in his nice coat that didn't feel like it fit right any more. He'd gotten it last winter and hadn't quite gotten around to getting a new one, and apparently his shoulders had grown since then. Figures, he turned eighteen and yet his body still decides to grow.

Maybe he'd gotten taller than Matt now. He'd have to check when he came over for his exhibition game closer to Christmas.

They got to the church at last, and Feliks fell silent as they filed in with the other tourists and a few locals for the Vespers mass at the seat of the German Catholic Church. The baritone droning of the deacons starts as they take their seats, and a hush falls over the crowd as the service begins.

The architecture was skinny and Gothic, but the stone was cream and white and dark tan, and the last rays of the setting sun filter through the tallest stained glass windows when Alfred looked up at the reaches of the ceiling. It had been a while since he had been to church for something other than tourism, and they'd done blessed little of that this trip – that was usually something his mother dragged him and his father to. There was nothing wrong with touring the occasional ancient cathedral, though – in small doses, they calmed him, even if he wasn't super Christian or anything like most of his dad's family.

It was a brief service, hushed, and he and Arthur took their cues from the two adults when to stand, kneel, cross themselves. He knew Arthur was rather opposed to religion, but he kept his thoughts to himself for now, going through the motions more from respect of a long-standing institute than because of any spiritual involvement.

They went to a café around the corner afterwards, the sudden biting wind a shock after the still air of the cathedral. Alfred glanced back up at the tiered arches and points of the front of the building, candles flickering behind tinted glass and the last traces of the sunset behind the spires.

He smiled and hurried to catch up with Arthur, who was walking quickly and cursing the cold fluently.

* * *

><p><strong>Black Night<strong>

**November 11, 2008**

_The scenery is gothic and blocky, all shadows in a dark night. Arthur crouches on a rooftop, cape blowing in the wind and tugging at his neck. A light footfall behind him, and he doesn't turn but knows who it is._

"_Good__ evening,_ Batman_,__" __he__ says, __not __taking __his __eyes __from__ the __streets __below. __A__ shadow__ in __the__ shadows __props __a __foot __on__ the __ledge __of __the__ roof __next __to __him __and __leans __on __his __knee._

"_It is," his voice rumbles, scratchy. "Nothing happening tonight."_

"_Yeah. Feels weird." The shadow chuckles, and he's behind him and he's Alfred now, he wasn't Alfred before. He wraps his arms around his waist in that perfect fit and bites his neck. Arthur groans, leans back, standing now. Alfred's fingers ghost in a line down the front of his chest, popping clasps and melting fabric. Starts and clouds are low in the sky, solid and unreal. Arthur's being is narrowed to black and yellow and Alfred's voice in his ear, but it's distant and he doesn't remember the words as they're spoken. He arches into all the touches, subservient and needy to a fault, arms at his sides. This isn't normally like him, but right now it's all right. _

_Alfred touches his face, touches through the mask over his eyes, kisses his spinal cord. Arthur moans and a hand curls around his lower jaw teeth, keeping his mouth pried open and panting. His chest is constricted, and his head is turned. Alfred kisses him, hand still curled in his mouth, and a creeping heat buries itself around Arthur's heart cavity. He kisses back, reaching back and tangling his fingers in blond hair. It's black instantly, and he opens his eyes to white ones that hold age and pain. He bends up to kiss it away and fails._

"_You're timeless to me," he thinks and a maskless, white-eyed Batman holds him down to the ground and fucks him, and sometimes he's Alfred, but it's always wanted._

_The feel of sheets and a quiet room seeps into his rooftop as a green-haired Francis swings on the ledge, purple suit and red grin. "Don't mind me, I'm just watchin'." He has the voice of Luke Skywalker and his face is split with teeth._

"_Go to hell," Alfred laughs, kissing Arthur savagely, draping cape caging them in like covers trapping heat. Arthur ruts, ruts into nothing. "You all right?" Al asks, concerned in the hard dark and soft sounds. Arthur fights for voice, control of his words his speech. He clings to the dream, wants to know who Harley Quinn is. _

"_Hey, wake up, man."_

Arthur didn't gasp awake like the movies, but blinked to semi-coherency and sweaty sheets and a painful morning wood. He stared at the wall next to his bed, head full of Batman and a sudden _what__ the __fuck __had __he __been __smoking?_

He groaned and rolled onto his back and found himself staring up at a very concerned Alfred, who was hovering and half dressed. "You looked like you were havin' one hell of a nightmare, honey."

Arthur shook his head, still too groggy to think and be truly mortified that he had dreamed about having sex with the Batman from the nineties' animated children's show that kept changing back and forth into Alfred, and he himself might have been dressed like Robin. "I'm fine. Just a… really weird dream." He rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes again.

_Francis is swinging on the ledge of the roof, walking along it without worry for the drop, and Arthur has his legs around Batman's hips and can't see him,_

Al sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back through the cheap comforter. "C'mon, time to wake up anyway." He shook his shoulder one more time and stood to go into the bathroom and brush his teeth.

_covered by black and slips of pastel green, glove colored, blond hair hangs in his face, half dressed._

The bathroom door shut, and Arthur's eyes snap open in horrified embarrassment as the force of his dream hit Arthur straight in the gut, killing any remaining arousal instantly and making him almost fall out of the bed in his desperate need to get away from the place where he forever defiled the image of his childhood idol.

He wasn't able to look Alfred in the eye all day long, and excused it with shuffling feet and a bad night's sleep when pressed.

* * *

><p>{AN: Inspired by recent events, naturally.}


	19. I Move On & Club Can't Handle Me

**I Move On**

**November 15, 2011**

"Alfred, have you applied for college yet?" Toris asked over dinner in Luxembourg City, which was barely big enough to warrant a full day's visit but they made it work. Alfred groaned and banged his head on the table.

"_Manners_, Alfred!" Arthur chastised, slapping the back of his head harder than he meant to and earning a surly glare from the corner of Al's eye in reward.

"Shut up." He rolled his head so it was his chin and not his forehead resting on the table and looked dolefully up at Toris. "I'm working on it."

Toris gave him a _look_. He was even better at _looks_ than Arthur, since he only used his power when it was absolutely necessary versus twice a day on average.

As the deadline for American university applications loomed, though, those necessary occasions were becoming far more frequent.

Al groaned louder and hid from that _look_ behind his hands. "Stop _looking_ at me like that!"

"Alfred, you know that this is important, otherwise I wouldn't bother you like this. Have you at least picked some places out?" His tone was soothing, but put-upon, like an unhappy owner trying to scold their puppy while trying to house train it. Al's stomach flipped, and he sighed and slouched back in his chair, glowering fiercely at his Coke and stirring his scant ice cubes with his straw. He'd even asked for ice specifically, and he'd gotten barely five little slivers of it.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he grumbled unhappily. "I'll work on it when we get back to the hotel tonight, all right?"

"Arthur, make sure he does that."

"Certainly, Toris."

Al switched his glower up to his manager and took an angry pull of his Coke with his chewed on straw. "Wha', you don' trust me to do it myself?"

Toris raised his eyebrows, unaffected by his glare. "Not about this anymore." Alfred pouted at the table and didn't say anything. He hated when he knew he wasn't right.

He sulked through the rest of dinner, going through five euros' worth of Coke and lost in thought about his plans for the future, not paying a lick of attention to the table talk.

He wondered where the good astronomy programs in the States were.

* * *

><p><strong>Club Can't Handle Me<strong>

**November 18, 2008**

In Belgium, they went to a club for the first time since Paris. Alfred had had an audition earlier that day, the first one since he completely flopped the one in Milan. Lucky for him, this particular show was in French, which was rapidly becoming the foreign language he was best at. Now they had a week to kill in Brussels before the call back, and they had been seeing only each other for far too long.

They weren't drunk enough for the dance floor yet, so the four of them were strung out along the bar, each with their preferred overpriced alcohol and yelling to be heard over the pumping music.

None of them noticed the group of four women sitting at a table nearby, chittering at each other and checking them out blatantly.

Toris was the first to be approached. He turned in surprise at the soft tap on his shoulder to find a gorgeous, tall woman with silky dark hair and blue eyes, an almost eerie parallel to his own features. "Care to dance, gorgeous?" she asked in French – and since he barely knew French, much less invitational French, his face just morphed from surprise to confusion.

Al smothered a grin and slid in closer, yelling in his ear, "She wants to dance with you!" He winked at her while Toris gaped like a fish, stealing glances at Feliks to the side. "He's not very good at French," Al explained to the woman while Feliks started laughing hysterically, too amused with Toris's reaction to a woman to be angry that his fiancé was being approached by another person in that manner.

"That's all right," she responded, resting her hand on her hip and smiling attractively. "I don't mind. The offer still stands." She fluttered her eyelashes at a flustered Toris as Al translated in his ear, giggling through half of his words. Toris gave Feliks a panicked look; he just rolled his eyes and nodded, waving him on. He wasn't going to be clingy when the potential results could make them laugh for days.

Hot Chick pulled him to his feet and towards the dance floor, looking up at him in what was usually her seductive scare, but just succeeded in frightening him more. He smiled tentatively and tried to act straight for a few songs.

Back at the bar, the other three were lost in tipsy laughter. Arthur was snorting into his tequila when one of the three remaining women at the corner table stood and crossed to them with a purpose, wavy red hair bouncing with each step, and sat down on the stool next to Arthur.

He looked over at the new presence at his side, still grinning. "Can I help you?" he asked automatically in English before he frowned at himself and asked in French. She giggled and pet his arm.

"You're cute," she said in perfectly accented English. "I'm not Belgian, I'm Irish."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Well, then, I'm afraid we aren't going to get along at all. I'm English."

She gasped in delight. "That's wonderful! I haven't been out of this country for years, so I haven't seen anyone from the British Isles in forever!"

"Well, I haven't been home in a while, either," he admitted. "I've been traveling around the continent with these fools for…" He trailed off as he realized that the two others who had been sitting behind him were gone, and whipped to search the dance floor. Alfred waved at him as a short, chubby girl with dark curls clutched his arm tightly, and Feliks was talking to a very manly-looking woman at the four women's table in the corner. He raised his eyebrows at the new development, then decided to just go with it and waved for the bartender to buy the redhead a drink.

Several hours later, they had all converged on the women's table and yelling in a mix of French and English, laughing loudly enough to annoy the nearby patrons and having a riot of a time. Feliks had been quick to set Hot Chick straight about Toris's not-straight qualities after they came off the dance floor, and now had found his way into his lap, playing with his hair while talking about make-up with Manly Chick, who had slowly revealed herself to be male to female transsexual. Arthur and Redhead had migrated to arguing over football teams, and Alfred was managing to hold the attention of both Chubby Chick and Hot Chick with stories of California and his crazy life as a low-level celebrity in Hollywood.

When he heard a language he didn't understand in the background, he glanced around Hot Chick to see a red-faced Arthur slurring over his words in that crazy drunk language he used, and he decided it was time for them to go home and save Redhead from any sort of weird shit Arthur would throw at her. He apologized to the women and jerked his head pointedly at Arthur when he got Toris's eye contact. He glanced over and nodded in understanding, pushing Feliks gently off his lap so he could stand up.

"Come on, Lucky, time to go, Arthur's talking in Welsh," he said into his ear. Feliks pouted, but nodded, stealing Manly Chick's phone long enough to put his number on her caller ID 'if she ever needed any advice about eyeliner' and helped drag Arthur away from the poor Redhead. They said their goodbyes to the women, who waved and laughed as Alfred hefted an unwilling, ranting Arthur over his shoulder and left the club.

* * *

><p>{AN: Alfred gets all of his methods of dealing with things he doesn't want to deal with from me

true story}


	20. Piano Man

**Piano Man**

**November 22, 2008**

Alfred had never really enjoyed playing the piano as a kid and as a teenager, since it was always something his mother forced him to do. However, now that he wasn't living with her and her baby grand in the living room, he found that he missed it, and therefore whenever he found an open one in a hotel lobby, a classier bar, or anywhere else, he'd feel compelled to sit down at it for at least a few songs and remember that he was good at this.

Lucky for him, the bar next door to their hotel in Brussels had a dusty upright tucked away in a corner.

He'd been awkward about asking the owner if it still worked the first evening, but he seemed delighted to have someone interested in using it, talking too fast in Dutch for Alfred to puzzle out the words from his reading of his Dutch dictionary at night while Arthur was writing. Most of his experiences in the Benelux region had been in French or English, anyway; it had only been this older man that didn't seem to know either, or care if Alfred knew Dutch at all. Either way, he nodded at his clumsy question and gave him a folding chair to sit on.

Soon, the other patrons started giving requests. Surprisingly, Billy Joel didn't come up until Saturday, when a sad-looking man in a suit called out for 'Piano Man' after singing along to the Beatles ballads that had been the theme of the evening so far. He smiled and called out to joke if anyone had a harmonica. The customers laughed, but of course no one took it seriously, and he started the beginning riff.

A verse in, the sad businessman was singing along loudly, and Alfred couldn't help but join him louder than his usual low tone. By the first big piano solo, everyone was singing along, even the bartender who hadn't spoken a word of English to him in the four days he'd been playing his piano for.

Arthur stood from the booth next to the piano to lean on the top of it, and Alfred smiled at him through the lyrics. This had been one of the first songs that he had sat down and taught himself because he wanted to learn it versus it being part of a lesson, so he'd had it memorized for years and could probably play it blindfolded. Arthur was humming the harmonica parts, buzzed enough to smile softly without care for who could see him but not enough to be Welsh-drunk. (Alfred was rather surprised he hadn't picked up some Welsh in all of the times he had been Welsh-drunk in the past months, but maybe it was because he always slurred and mumbled his speech when that inebriated – and it probably didn't make any logical sense, anyway.)

The whole bar was singing along – some better than others – and Alfred felt his heart soar as he focused on hitting the right keys and not fucking up the moment.

He hit the final crescendo, and the bar yelled the last verse in a single bawdy voice before he trailed off into the last frills of notes and they raised hell in applause. He stood and took an extravagant bow, earning more cheers before their attention slowly turned back to their friends, and the moment they had shared was lost. Alfred decided he was done for the night and sat back down in their booth. Arthur slid in behind him and slid a little too far, pressing the side of their legs together through their jeans.

"Well that was fun," he said with a grin, a little out of breath and rushed on endorphins and a little adrenaline. They laughed with him and immediately started teasing him about how he could get a job as Billy Joel before his fame, or maybe a church organist, the list getting more and more extravagant until he couldn't contain himself from laughter.

At the bar, the sad-looking businessman who had made the initial request paid his tab and left the bar quietly to go home to an empty apartment and a sleeping dog.

* * *

><p>{AN: Surprise cameo of Luxembourg as the old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin

The instant he came up in the event, I gave him this song as his, and nothing you can say will tell me otherwise}


	21. All The Small Things

**All The Small Things**

**November 27, 2008**

For Thanksgiving, they decided to stay in and cook. They were in Amsterdam after the Belgian audition hadn't worked out past the first callback, and so far had been relieved to be somewhere that communications in English weren't few and far between.

It came to a universal consensus that they had been eating out far too much on this trip – mostly from necessity, but still too much. Alfred had started feeling fat and lazy by Switzerland, and had taken to sniffing out the hotel gym at every change of location. Having a few days' worth of meals that didn't average to fifteen American dollars a person would be a good way to shake off some of that guilt.

Al and Feliks made sure to block the bedroom door with an armchair from the common room when Arthur retreated into it to write while they had gone grocery shopping. They tiptoed away and set up shop in the kitchenette, tiptoeing on pins and needles until the predictable angry pounding when he finally discovered their treachery began. They didn't really want to find out just how killer the pudding he had promised to help make would turn out to be.

The kitchenette wasn't really suitable for cooking a full Thanksgiving dinner, but with store-cooked turkey, the welcome lack of cranberry sauce, and basic bread instead of dressing, the three of them managed to pull something like a home-cooked meal together.

Then came the scariest part of the day so far: letting Arthur out of the bedroom.

Alfred climbed on top of the armchair and pressed his ear to the door, but only heard the irregular tapping of keys through the wood. He climbed down as silently as possible and pushed the chair away just as silently, bracing himself for anything as he cracked open the door and peered inside. Arthur was lying on his stomach on their bed, typing with a focus that made it hard to determine whether his frown was because he was concentrated or upset.

"Dinner's ready if you want some," Al said quietly. Arthur glanced up at him, then glanced back to his screen, typing with more force and he was _definitely_ upset.

Al sighed and slid through the door, closing it behind him and holding onto the doorknob behind his back for strength. "C'mon, Art, don't be like that."

"Be like _what_, angry because you lot thought it was _funny_ to lock me in a room by myself because I'm just _worthless_ and bad at _cooking_ and being _nice_ and _everything_-" Each forceful word was punctuated by a hammer of a keystroke, and Al knew that he couldn't be writing anything good like that. He stepped forward to sit beside him on the bed, but Arthur just moved over out of reach and didn't even look at his puppy face.

"Art, you _know_ you can't cook worth a damn."

"I know _that_, I just-" He deflated with a great sigh, head falling to make his next word a keyboard smash. "Maybe I just wanted to _help_, all right?" He lifted his head to glare twin fiery holes into his screen. "Maybe I'm tired of feeling useless."

Alfred blinked in surprise. "You're not useless."

"Oh really?" Arthur finally locked eyes with him, wet green fire. "Tell me one thing useful I've done on this trip."

Al opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "We- but being _useful_ ain't want this trip's about, man."

"For the love of God, _isn't_," Arthur snapped. Al raised his eyebrows and stopped trying to smile.

"This really bothers you, huh?"

"It's a shameless butchering of the English language-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Arthur and Alfred glared each other down; for once, Arthur was the first to cave, slumping down again and burying his face in the crook of his sleeve. "It's a family thing," he mumbled into his sleeve, too muffled for Alfred to hear.

"What?"

Arthur heaved a great sigh and turned his head to the side to look at Alfred with one exposed eye. "It's a family thing," he repeated, clearer. "No one in my family can laze about. We have to be doing _something_, preferably something with a purpose."

"Sounds like a good trait to pass around to me."

"Not when there's nothing productive _to_ do."

"Hmm." He took a controlled tumble forward to lie over Arthur's back, resting his chin on his shoulder and worming his arms under him for a hug. Arthur squirmed a little to get the pointy parts of his anatomy out of the way, but didn't try to shove him off. "You've got plenty of uses, sweet cheeks." Arthur scoffed at the nickname, so Al kissed his cheek with a grin that Arthur couldn't see.

"Stop that."

"Make me." He nuzzled into the side of his face. "Besides, you think _you've_ got it bad. This whole deal was supposed to be about me taking my acting to the next level, but here we are, almost halfway done, and I've only gotten _one_ part?" He pouted at the wall. "Talk about being inadequate."

"At least you've done something with your time."

"Well, maybe if you came with me to the gym sometime, it'd make you feel-"

"No. I am not running like a gerbil on a wheel just to get sweaty and thirsty and disgusting, much less when you're in the same room. I'd get demolished."

"But it's good for you!"

"I don't care."

"Spoilsport." He gave Arthur a final squeeze before rolling away and standing up. "C'mon, let's eat. You'll feel better when you do."

"If you say so." Arthur closed his laptop and followed him into the main room, where Toris and Feliks were setting up a makeshift dinner table with the coffee table, the couch cushions and throw pillows, and plastic silverware.

Even though they could never figure out just which of them had burnt half of the gravy, the rest of it tasted just fine, and after a few hours of food and conversation, a few more Skype calls home to family and friends for all of them, and struggling with comprehending the Dutch television shows, they all felt better about their lives and could go to bed happy and satisfied.

(Except for the fact that they'd booked a one-bedroom suite this time because of ridiculous prices, and none of them were kinky enough for _that_ sort of satisfaction.)

* * *

><p>{AN: I'm going to use this opportunity to saw two things. One, _I see you all, average of 1.5k readers a day. Why aren't you reviewingggggg I miss you aaaaaaallllll_

Two, I am posting these little bits faster to my tumblr than to here by a considerable margin. Go check it out if you're impatient, the link's in my profile.}


	22. It's Not Over

**It's Not Over**

**November 30, 2008**

"Guess who's back, bitches!" Al cried, bursting through the hotel room door, completely wasted and happy about it.

Arthur barely glanced up from his laptop and over his shoulder towards the door from where he was lying stomach down on the couch. "I see no 'bitches' here, Alfred, but if you're referring to me, I'll be forced to make it so. Painfully, on your end."

Al laughed and leant against the wall for stability. "You're mean, man."

"I've never strived to prove you otherwise."

Feliks poked his head around Alfred and said, "Sorry to bother you when you're writing, but Alfred discovered flavoured vodka, and, well…" He gestured to Al, who was giggling at the wall and rubbing his cheek against it. "We're going back out, but we figured it'd be safer to take him back here and leave him with you."

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. "Go ahead, I'll watch him." Feliks was gone before he even finished talking, calling back, "Thanks! You're an angel!" The door slammed closed, and he was left with two thousand words to write in three hours, a naval battle scene to design, and a smashed young starlet to care for.

He started describing the types of ships involved in graphic detail, leaving Alfred to his wall for as long as it could hold his attention span.

He only noticed that Alfred had pushed away from his wall and stumbled towards him when he ran straight into the coffee table and cursed in a way that showed he had been listening to Arthur after all, falling hard over the back of Arthur's legs, knees on the ground by the couch.

"Fucking _Christ_!"

Al groaned while Arthur kicked at him ineffectively, trying to get his dead weight off his calves.

"Get the fuck off of me, Al!"

"Stop kickin' me!" Al latched onto his legs, pinning them down and together to stop the pain in his stomach and upper chest. Arthur grumbled and bucked a few more times, but Alfred was immobile when he decided he was going to be. Arthur sighed and gave up, deciding that he had more important things to do than worry about the circulation in his feet.

He jumped a little when Al started nuzzling into his thigh, but let the poor drunk fool be as he gave two sentence of adjective-laden description to the coils of rope on the deck of his main character's flagship.

He'd definitely have to edit this later.

It was the final one thousand stretch, and he could almost taste the done, when Alfred's nuzzling, long ignored now, started creeping upwards until he scooted up and _bit his arse_.

Arthur yelped and twisted to the side, hiding his backside against the back of the couch and smacking him in the head. "What in the bloody fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

"Ow!" He rubbed his head and poked Arthur in the side for revenge. "Stop doing that!"

"What the- _you_ stop doing that! You _bit_ me in the _arse_!"

Al resettled himself so he had his chin on Arthur's hip, pouting with glassy eyes. "Just wanted to see how it would taste," he slurred.

"Like denim, I'm sure. Now leave me alone so I can finish this goddamned novel!"

"You're no fun."

"Alfred, you _bit me!_ Did you _expect_ me to respond well to that?"

"I dunno."

Arthur growled and pushed him onto the floor, ignoring his wails and taking his laptop into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Maybe now he could actually get some fucking work done.

About two hours later, he had 50,010 words according to the website's counter, and so he closed his laptop with a relieved sigh and went to go find Alfred and, if not apologise, at least perk him up.

In the main room, though, Alfred was still where he'd pushed him on to the floor, drooling onto the carpet and passed out like a log. He groaned, pushed him around so he was lying on his side, and brought in the extra blanket from the bedroom to put over him. If he woke up in the morning with a sore neck, well, served him right for thinking that biting Arthur _in the fucking arse_ would be a good idea.

* * *

><p>{AN: Oh you guys. Who knew it only took a tiny bit of whining to get you all reviewing again? Y'all are all lovely :)

This chapter makes me laugh more than it should}


	23. Roxanne & Vincent

**Roxanne**

**December 4, 2008**

It was snowing too lightly to stick when Arthur and Alfred's wanderings of Amsterdam led them to the infamous red light district, where street corners smelled even more like pot than usual, the women in the windows looked cold, and Alfred got a song stuck in his head.

"_You don't have to wear that dress tonight!_" he sang in steadily increasing volume, no matter what Arthur did to persuade him to shut the fuck up with that goddamned Police song. "Lighten up, man, I'm sure they've heard this song, like, a million times already." He flashed a grin at the woman in only her underwear and a garter belt in the window next to him. She gave him a seductive look coated in mascara back, but like most things related to the feminine sex, he chose to ignore the implications behind it and kept walking.

"You look like a bloody fool, and you're making me seem one by association. Now stop dancing around and _stop fucking singing_!" He tried to grab Al's forearm to hold him still, but Al just spun away with a laugh, almost running into a disgruntled older couple.

"Gotta try harder than that if ya wanna pin me down, hotshot."

"Hotshot?"

Al ignored him and walked backwards with sliding, syncopated steps, singing again, "_You don't have to sell your body to the night!_" A woman just the right height stepped out of the door between two red-curtained windows, wearing a fluffy winter coat and boots, her work makeup still on. She looked up from her phone just in time for Alfred to make eye contact with her, and he grinned. Before she knew what was going on, this crazy young man had taken her hand and spun her under his arm to face him. She caught her hand with her phone in it on his shoulder for balance, and he tangoed a step forward and backwards, all the while singing, "_You don't have to put on that red light!_"

She blinked, startled and automatically followed his lead in the moment. He had very nice, sincere eyes that were staring right into her, captivating her attention even after a long, unsatisfying day at work.

On a drawn out cry of "_Rooooxanne!_", he tipped her back, hand steady on her upper back, and she smiled.

"Alfred Jones, let the poor woman go! People are staring!"

The young man brought her back to her feet and stepped back, breaking the eye contact and turning his grin at another young blond man, shorter than him by a good head. She shook herself out her shock as the shorter young man scowled at the dancer, then looked apologetically at her. "I'm so terribly sorry about that, love, I really don't know what's gotten into him lately."

She smiled for real. "It's fine, really, Not the worst that's happened to me." The two boys suddenly looked uncomfortable, biting their lips and scuffing their feet. Maybe she shouldn't have let that slip out.

The girl at the window beside them knocked on the glass and glared. They were scaring her customers away. "I have to go," she said, gesturing down the street and stepping away.

"Of course. Terribly sorry again."

Her smile was back to its automatic fake quality again. "It's no problem, really. It was…" She glanced over at the dancer, who was looking at his shoes without any ulterior motives to his random grab. "Sweet." He grinned up at her through barely-hanging honey hair. "Thanks." She said because she needed to.

"You're welcome." He smile could light up the sky, and she ducked her head and turned away to walk quickly towards her second job waiting tables a few blocks away, and new spring in her step.

If only there were more men like that crazy young man; respectful of even the whores of Amsterdam.

(Then again… she quickly took back that wish, after she remembered that if there were more men like that, she'd probably be out of a job.)

* * *

><p><strong>Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)<strong>

**December 11, 2008**

Two hours into their tour of the Van Gogh Museum, Alfred gave a heavy sigh and slumped down on one of the stiff wooden viewing benches in the middle of a gallery. "Can we _go_ now?" he moaned, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

Arthur plopped down next to him and gave a matching groan. "Not yet, I don't think Feliks and Toris are done." They both glared at their chaperones' backs across the gallery, where they were talking quietly but excitedly about a glass display of sketches. Neither of them had expected it from the adults, but Alfred had forgotten that before law school, Toris had gotten a bachelor's degree in art history, and Feliks apparently liked more kinds of painting that painting faces. Although it was a good gallery from a great artist, the teenagers had gotten tired of art a long time ago.

Al leaned over and nudged Arthur with his elbow. "What do ya say we blow this joint and leave them to their art?"

"You were reading my mind, love." They got to their feet and came up behind Toris and Feliks, who were talking about other art museums, somehow.

"Hey, Toris." His manager turned and smiled. "We're gonna head out."

"Oh…" Toris glanced at his fiancé in uncertainty, then said, "I guess we're ready to leave, then."

"No, no, it's okay!" Alfred reassured him quickly. "You guys can stay, it's cool, we'll find something to do. You wanna meet at that place by the hotel in a bit for dinner?"

Toris lit up. "That sounds wonderful. Say about…" He shook his cuff away from his wristwatch to check the time. "Sevenish?"

"Awesome. See ya then!" They waved and left them to their discussion of Impressionist collections around Europe. Alfred took the stairs two at a time, egging Arthur on as he kept his ankles intact and took the normal way down.

"One day you're going to kill yourself doing something dumb, and I'm not going to cry at your funeral because I will have probably warned you right before you did it that it was idiotic," Arthur told him frankly as they got to the main floor and exited the building into the cold. He shivered and zipped up his jacket, shrugging on the overcoat he'd been holding over one arm while in the museum. Alfred just popped the scratchy fur collar of his bomber jacket and buttoned it closed, leaving the zipper half-down like it had been for hours. The crowd density of the sidewalks let them get away with walking close enough to bump arms with each step as they wandered towards the direction of their hotel. They had two hours to burn until food with the others, and nothing concrete to do in that time. The sun had set while they were in the museum, and the temperature predictably plummeted with its loss. Arthur found himself gravitating more and more towards Alfred's welcome body heat until he had his arm wrapped around Alfred's, off and on holding hands since Alfred forgot gloves but Arthur didn't.

Alfred didn't seem to notice, too busy talking about his plans for Christmas with Matthew and Matthew's real father, who was coming along as his adult chaperone, and groaning about spending it with Gil. Arthur offered a question here and there, a nod of encouragement, but for the most part was content to listen to the rise and fall of his voice and absorb his extraneous warmth.

Shops were starting to close up, and the normal sort of places they would have ducked in to waste time in – bookstores, diners, curio and souvenir stores – were turning off their lights and flipping their signs. Instead, they found a spot on the wall over a canal and sat on it, watching the occasional tour gondola glide by quietly. Arthur's right side was pressed all along Alfred's left, which left his far side feeling colder than it was, but he didn't mind so much.

"Y'know, this is a nice city, but I can't wait until we can get back out into the country again." Alfred tilted his head back to try and see the few stars the light pollution was blocking. "I miss the stars."

"I miss a lot of things." Al hummed in agreement, nodding a little with his head still tilted back.

"When we start going through Germany, we're definitely camping out some instead of finding a hotel."

"But it's fucking _freezing_ at night now, and it's just going to get worse."

Alfred laughed. "That's okay." He wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist and hugged him closer. "I'll keep ya nice and toasty so we don't have to stick you in front of the car heater for an hour before you can talk this time," he said with a cheeky grin.

Arthur frowned. "That was your own damn fault for thinking that hiking in the Alps when it was bloody snowing was a good idea."

"Yeah, but y'all went along with it, so it's your fault, too." Arthur snorted and crossed his arms, but didn't say anything, just hit the heel of the leg not pulled against his chest harder against the stone in their slight swinging over the water. Alfred's hand slipped down from his waist back to the bit of wall behind Arthur, leaning back on it and staring up at the sky again, trying to let his eyes get accustomed to the dark so he could see more than three stars and a planet. It didn't really work, but it was nice to imagine.

They sat in silence for a while, simply taking in the city in all its lights and sounds, breath visible in the air and thinking about nothing. Arthur hid his chin deeper in his overcoat's collar and wondered if this was going to be one of the moments he remembered the most when thinking about this trip in the future.

"You ready to head on?" Alfred asked softly after a while, checking his phone for the time. Arthur nodded, and they carefully jumped down off the canal wall to the sidewalk behind them and continued on towards the restaurant that they had gone to a few times already in their stay in Amsterdam, the conversation picking back up as they merged with the evening walkers and tried to remember to definitely _not_ stand in the bike lanes by accident.

* * *

><p>{AN: Alfred, stop being so _fucking charming_}


	24. Love Is Teasin'

**Love Is Teasin'**

**December 16, 2008**

"Y'know, I'm getting kinda sick of museums."

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Alfred. "Even ones with Captain Jack Sparrow in them?"

Al looked over at the wax figure of the Hollywood pirate and shuddered. "_Especially_ ones with Captain Jack Sparrow in it."

Arthur laughed quietly. "Scared by a few life like replicas, are you, love?"

"They're creepy as shit. Talk about your Uncanny Valley."

"Pardon?" Their wanderings of the exhibit led them to the royals and Princess Diana, who Arthur smiled fondly at when Al wasn't looking.

"Oh, it's just a robotics term for when something not human is disturbingly human-like," he said with a wave, glancing over the Dutch queens he didn't know the names of. "A.k.a., things that are creepy as shit."

"I see." Arthur had no problems with the statues himself, seeing as his childhood home had far creepier things living in its old stone walls. "Well, put that idea behind you for a tic and let's enjoy our last night in Amsterdam, all right?"

Al eyed David Beckham like he was going to jump out and kick him at any moment. "Whatever you say, man."

* * *

><p>After they finished with the wax museum, they wandered towards one of the outdoor skating rinks that were beginning to form as winter and Christmas drew steadily nearer. They had tried them out a few times so far, and each time Arthur had steadfastly refused to join them, preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch them have fun rather than get laughed at for falling on his arse twice as much as the average five-year-old child.<p>

Winter sports did not suit his physique well.

This time, though, Alfred was determined to get him out on the ice, no matter what protests and struggles Arthur put up to him. "Come on, dude, try something fun for once!" he urged as they neared the sectioned off ice and the skaters already circling the rink.

"For the last time, no! I'm not making a fool of myself!"

"Take a chill pill, Artie. It's just skating." Feliks rolled his eyes with a fond smile from where he was wrapped around Toris's arm. Arthur scowled at him.

"Traitor." He scowled more at Alfred again. "I've tried it before and I've discovered that I'm utter rubbish at it, and I would prefer not to relive the experience. Is that too much to ask?"

"It's not gonna kill you to take a turn around the rink!" Al grinned his best at him. "I'll lead you through it like one of those cheesey romantic comedies you like so much. You'll only fall if you do something stupid, like panic."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his smile. "One turn. That's all I'm taking."

Alfred cheered and jumped in the air a little. "Score one for America!" Arthur huffed and acted suitably grumpy while they rented out their skates, then made Alfred tie them because he 'wasn't quite sure how tight was tight enough'. Al was too excited about finally getting Arthur off the bleachers and into the fun to care, and grabbed Arthur's hand to lead him out onto the scuffed-up ice, Toris and Feliks already out among the slight crowd.

Arthur balked a little at the entrance to the rink, trying to pull away from Al's grip. Alfred was already on the ice, and had to hurry and latch on to the wall with his free hand so something bad didn't happen. "Now what did I say about panicking?" Al laughed, not letting go of Arthur's hand. Arthur glared at him.

"I have never hated you as much as I do right now."

"Tough luck, kid. You're coming with me whether you like it or not." He jerked his head to gesture behind Arthur's back. "Besides, you're holding up the line."

Arthur glanced back at the skaters waiting on him to stop blocking the entrance and sighed. "All right, fine, you win this round." He carefully stepped out onto the ice, clutching Al's hand like the ice would open up and eat him if he let go. Alfred tugged him away from the entrance so the impatient skaters could use it again, skating with the ease of an early childhood growing up in northern Canada. Arthur flailed as the skates slid his feet apart, taking a crushing hold on AL's other hand and forcing him to skate backwards.

"Relax, honey. Just walk."

"I am going to kill you so slowly when you're not keeping me alive." Al laughed and kept pulling him along, looking over his shoulder periodically to keep from running into anyone.

"Just calm down and copy what we're all doing. You're doing just fine so far." Arthur made a face at him, but snuck a few glances at the way other people were moving their feet, trying to mimic the slow push and glide. "See, there you go!" Al let go of one of his hands and turned to skate beside him instead, keeping Arthur's momentum up and holding his balance, but letting him skate on his own.

"I still hate you."

"What else is new?" They were almost back around to the entrance hole in the wall, and Al subtly angled them away from the edge. "See, I told you this wasn't so bad."

"Yes it is." Arthur stumbled and lost his rhythm for a moment, but Al kept him moving and kept him from falling. Arthur didn't even notice the entrance as they passed it by.

Al cheered in his head and rearranged their clasped hands so it was less Arthur holding on for dear life and more simply staying connected. Arthur was too busy keeping his feet moving in the proper way to care how Alfred was holding on to his hand as long as he didn't let go.

* * *

><p>"My ankles hurt. Why did I let you talk me into that?" Arthur asked as they returned their skates later.<p>

"Because deep down you knew it would be fun." Alfred slung an arm around his shoulders and shook him a little. "Admit it, Arthur, you had a good time."

"Doesn't mean I don't still despise skating. And you."

"Whatever you say." He slid his arm off his shoulders, maybe touching more than he really should, but hey, they hadn't been able to do much of anything of _that_ sort in a good long while.

Arthur shot him a sidelong look when the fingers trailed across his shoulder blades; Al grinned sheepishly at him and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Ready to find a bar?" Feliks asked, leaving Toris to pay for their hour of skate rental.

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

><p>Alfred definitely liked Amsterdam the most out of all the European cities they'd visited so far, besides maybe Barcelona so long ago. The people were nice when he wasn't a pedestrian in a bike lane, the streets were pretty even though sometimes open doors smelled like pot, and the canals made it easy to navigate him mental map once he figured out the system of them all. The coffee shops were misleading in name, but after the first mistake where he quickly backtracked from the shop as soon as he saw the display of weed behind the counter, he got used to not expecting his kind of coffee shops around every corner. He had no interest in the legal soft drugs the city was infamous for, although he knew Matthew and Uncle Marker would want to spend a day or two over here while they were in the right part of Europe. It'd be nice to come back here in a few weeks, though.<p>

Right now, on their last evening in the city for now, all four of them were in a corner booth of their favorite bar of the city, having loud conversation in English and each with at least one drink in them, if not several more than that. Al still didn't really like alcohol, but it was more bearable now than it had been before Europe.

He was staying away from flavored vodka forever, though. The hangover from that was one of the worst things he'd ever had to experience.

Today he was on his usual rum and Coke, carefully measuring himself to the pace he'd learned his tolerance was best at from the heavy consumption of the past few months, playing footsie with Arthur sitting next to him and telling a story about Matt and his demon bear when it was still an abandoned wild cub taken in by Matt's father and living illegally in the Williamses' house.

"It'd be goddamned adorable if that bear wasn't the spawn of Satan, I swear." He took enough of a swallow of his drink to get an ice cube, crunching on it as he continued, "Consider yourselves lucky that thing's locked up in a zoo where it belongs. Demon thing."

"You sound just like your cousin talking about your dog," Toris noted with a grin. He was a little drunker than he normally tried to be in his futile attempt to keep up with his fiancé for once. For all of Feliks's slight stature and femininity, he drank like a fish made of iron and Slavic blood.

Al scrunched his nose at the comment. "At least Peaches isn't a man-killing machine picked up from the Canadian wilderness!"

"Not so sure about that," Arthur murmured before shooting back his third shot of whiskey. Under the table, he slid his instep up the side of Al's leg to drag his pants leg up enough for skin to be exposed, the rhythm of his circling foot presses matching his usual kissing pace. He wasn't sure if Arthur even knew that, but it made him swallow loudly and flush anyway. His red face was thankfully muted by the dim lighting of the bar, and he rested his cheek on his hand and rubbed at his skin to make it go away.

God, it was like Arthur turned into a snake when he was drunk, all joints and sinew and flexibility. And right now, Alfred really, _really_ wanted to see how far back he could bend.

"Say, y'all ready to head back? I'm gettin' sort of sleepy." He faked a big yawn and stretched, bending his left leg in to drag Arthur's right, twisted around his, towards him. Arthur stroked his thigh under the table in answer.

"I think I've had all I wanted to drink tonight," he said, nodding along with Alfred's plan. Feliks and Toris shrugged, and they waited on their waiter to come back by so they could ask for the check.

* * *

><p>Feliks and Toris passed out in a heap when they got back to the room and got ready for bed, once again proving that just because they were older and more responsible didn't mean that they stood a chance against the teeangers' natural night owl tendencies. Al smiled as he and Arthur coaxed their mostly-asleep chaperones under the covers, letting them act all cute and engaged and shit. Even if they couldn't get married in their home state anymore, at least they were still adorable.<p>

Before Arthur could burrow himself into their own bed, though, Al took his hand, holding a finger to his mouth, and led him back into the bathroom, pushing the lock closed behind him. He trapped Arthur against the door with his hands braced on either side of his head. The only light came from the small window over the toilet, shedding moonlight, washed out and grayscale. Arthur smiled up at him, eyes hooded and glossy, sexy even in a T-shirt far too large for him and loose pajama bottoms.

"Taking initiative, are we?" Alfred stared at him as he slid his hands up his chest to rest his arms over his shoulders. "Come on, then. I like it."

Al shivered and took a step forward; he could feel the heat from Arthur against his skin. "God, you're hot."

Arthur tilted his head with a coy smile, crossing his wrists behind his head. "I think you've told me that before, love."

"Only 'cause it's true." He bent in to kiss him, soft at first, but Arthur hummed into his mouth and drew him closer, languid like liquid and all wet mouth and little noises. Al ran his hands down Arthur's sides, pushing up at his pajama shirt to ghost over skin. Arthur's hums turned into moans, hands threading in the back of Al's hair and holding his face close, prying open Alfred's mouth with his own. Alfred's hands couldn't stop roaming up his back, stomach, ribs, scratching a little at parts. He dipped his tongue into Arthur's mouth, and it tasted a little like whiskey but he didn't really mind because his probably tasted a little like rum and carbonation. Arthur pressed his own tongue against his, breathing heavily around it and arching away from the door.

Alfred turned with Arthur still firmly in his arms to push him against the sink counter instead of the door, holding onto his lower back just above the edge of the granite countertop and bending him backwards with a kiss, seeing if he could get his shoulders to touch the faucet. Arthur gasped, head falling back out of Alfred's mouth's range, so he peppered kisses along his exposed throat instead, pulling on his shirt collar with his teeth when he got there. Arthur was panting by now, hands gripped around the back of Alfred's neck for balance and eyes a sliver open. He could see the upside-down edge of the sink, and also feel the blood rushing to his head.

"Alfred," he breathed. Al placed one last kiss under his jaw before pulling him back up, kissing his mouth rougher than before. Arthur unlaced his fingers for a moment so he could push himself up to sit on the counter, then wrapped his whole self around Alfred, hand down the back of his wifebeater and heels against his ass. The angle made their hips bump, and they both gasped into each other.

As far as bathrooms to have sex in went, this wasn't the worst they'd messed around in. Of course, usually their bathroom escapades were limited to frenzied kissing in the believable amount of time it could take to piss, maybe some jerking off if no one knocked. Luckily, they were both naturally quiet in sex – at least when there were people around – so the gasps and groans were at a simmer instead of a boil.

That didn't mean that the toothpaste clattering to the ground when Al shoved Arthur back a little too far didn't echo against the tile, nor did it mean they paid it any wick of attention. They were too busy pulling at clothes and rutting into each other, sloppy and wet and hot full of need and desire. Arthur unhooked his arms from Al's neck so he could pull his wifebeater up, breaking the kiss at the last second to tug it over his head and going right back in, letting Alfred get it off his arms and throw it to the floor himself as he touched every bit of skin of his golden boy that he could. Al cupped his face and pressed the pads of his thumbs in slow circles into his cheeks, kissing him slowly suddenly and eyes open just enough to see that Arthur's were cracked as well. In the shadows they looked darker than they were, almost brown but the wrong shades. Deep hazel.

He pulled away slowly, Arthur holding on to his lower lip with his teeth gently until it slipped away. They stared each other down, deep blue against deep hazel, panting and sweat cooling on their foreheads.

And then the moment shattered as they surged forward again, teeth clattering before tongues got in the way instead, pulling and grasping at each other. Alfred reached back blindly with a hand to resettle Arthur's slipping leg higher around his waist, tipping him backwards again, but not as far this time. Arthur's calf pressed up against his back, heel almost to his shoulder blade and soft flannel pants bunching between their skin. Alfred let Arthur support himself for a moment, hanging off of him, so he could slide his pants and underwear down from where they were sitting low on his hips anyway around the curve of his ass, exposing his cock to the cold air and rarely-bare skin to the cold granite. Arthur sucked in a harsh breath, wincing a little against his mouth but not letting Alfred stop to ask, anchoring him with fingers in hair and cotton against his bare chest.

Alfred let him control the kiss, make it hot and needy, as he clumsily shoved off his basketball shorts and boxers, letting them fall to the ground and hopping to kick them aside. He accidentally broke the kiss with his jumping; Arthur just laughed, corners of his eyes crinkling and shaking his hands through all of Al's hair. (He'd gotten it trimmed once since Monique sheared him in Paris, but although it was a little longer than it had been for those first few weeks, it wasn't anywhere near the sheer volume it had been before.) Al grinned back and gripped him tight, stumbling over to the toilet and hitting the lid down with a loud _smack_.

They froze. With wide eyes and pounding hearts, they waited for a sound, a scuffle, from the room across the door, telling them to go to bed or what in the _hell_ did they think they were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Nothing. Simple city silence.

They breathed easier and giggled, and Al rubbed his nose against Arthur's as he sat down on the now lowered toilet lid with Arthur in his lap. He bit his lip at the cold porcelain on his bare legs, but Arthur let his head fall to the side so he could kiss at the side of his neck. Al arched into his mouth, eyes slipping closed as Arthur's legs gracefully fell from around his waist to brace against the floor, straddling his lap, pants only in the way but he wasn't about to stand to take them off. A small gasped '_oh_', and Alfred was hitching him up so he had to crane down to get at Alfred's jaw, cheek, over to his mouth again. He'd never get tired of that.

Al's hands slid down to hold him by his exposed ass, for better leverage, but Arthur threw his head back and moaned. Al ducked forward to bite at the side of his neck, fingers kneading flesh. Arthur's eyelids fluttered, and he stood up.

Al blinked up at him as he quickly stepped out of his pajama bottoms and underwear, and he was sitting naked and aroused on a closed toilet in Amsterdam. He reached for Arthur, "Come back," but Arthur just stopped his hands gently with fingers against his palms and a smile and turned to dig in Toris's toiletry bag.

"What are you doing?" Alfred made to stand, but Arthur found what he was looking for first and came back to him, pushing him back to a sitting position and straddling his lap once more. He waved a vaguely familiar bright green bottle that Alfred might have seen when looking for the spare deodorant in his face.

"If we go any farther, love, we're going to need this." Al tilted his head at him in question, the back of his mind screaming that he had a bare-assed Arthur in his lap and he really needed to take advantage of this situation. Arthur rolled his eyes and popped open the bottle, taking one of Alfred's hands from where they were resting on his waist and squeezing some gel out onto his fingers, rubbing it around to coat everything. Arthur leaned forward to put his mouth to his ear and whispered, "It makes things easier."

_Oh_.

Alfred gulped and pressed his mouth to the parts of Arthur's skin closest to him, tracing down the curve of his neck as Arthur sighed and let his slick hand go. He slid his hands back around to cup Arthur's ass, and the sigh turned into an "Oh God, _please_." Al smiled against his skin.

"The things you make me do sometimes, honey." His coated hand slipped down between his cheeks as Arthur, hands also lubricated, nudged forward a little so he could wrap his hands around both of their cocks. Al choked on his heavy inhale and buried his face in Arthur's neck, bucking up into his grip and lost for a moment. Arthur's hands started pumping them, small breaths and gasps against Alfred's ear.

"Come on, love, touch me." Alfred's face burned, and he swallowed as he reached further down, and he really hoped Arthur was clean right now as he pushed the tip of his middle finger against his asshole. _Man_, this was weird.

Arthur bit on his ear and squeezed them tighter, encouraging Al to press in farther. Al flinched away from the bite automatically, but hooked his other hand around the back of Arthur's thigh to bring him a little higher; Arthur's hands slipped a little, now just one, and he laughed breathlessly as Alfred inched his whole finger up into him. "You're so good," he whispered, kissing his shoulder and reaffirming his grip, angling his hips down, free hand slipping and scratching for purchase against Alfred's side, back, arm.

Alfred brought his head back from Arthur's neck and kissed his mouth, easily slipping his tongue in as he experimented with his finger, circling and bending to try and get a rise from him. Arthur melted into it, hips thrusting and grip slack but still there.

For a moment that's all it was, lost friction and a finger and hot breath on bare skin and biting kisses. Alfred's experimentation hit _something_ that made Arthur turn stiff and cry into his mouth, muffled, thank God. He raised his eyebrows and pressed it harder, and Arthur shifted so that he could wrap the leg not held up by Alfred around his back, holding himself up since Alfred only had two hands. He splayed the fingers not buried in his ass out to hold him, felt the heat twisting around his insides focus.

He came first, drawing out the last syllable of Arthur's name until Arthur covered his mouth with his own again, clinging more than holding as he jerked his hand a few more times and climaxed along with him. For all that he had more experience than Alfred, he could barely control himself like this.

They sat like that a while, kissing when they remembered and cooling down. Eventually, Arthur blinked to full awareness, sitting back and remembering with a jolt that he'd convinced Alfred to finger him. He squirmed, but Alfred just hummed in lazy euphoria and nuzzled into his chest, still covered by his old T-shirt. Arthur bit his lip and lifted himself away, wincing as the cooling trails of lube on his skin came to the forefront of his consciousness. He stood and smiled fondly down at Alfred, who was still reveling in his post-orgasmic happiness. He bent down and kissed him softly, holding his face with one hand, and pulled away after a few moments.

"Come on, let's clean up." Alfred nodded and let Arthur pull him to his feet, taking the few steps to the sink and standing behind Arthur, resting his chin on his shoulder and making him flush as he wet two of the washcloths folded up by the hotel staff on the counter. When Alfred started to kiss his neck, he shoved one of them in his face and stepped away, hurriedly wiping down his hips and thighs while Alfred chuckled behind him. He retrieved his lower clothing and pulled it back on before cracking the bathroom door and peering out.

Toris and Feliks hadn't even moved, curled up together in the far bed. He shook his head and closed the door again, turning to find a fully clothed again Alfred washing his hands while rinsing out the used washcloth. He held in a laugh and dropped his own washcloth into the sink under the stream of water, standing on his toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Bed."

"Mkay." He turned off the water and draped the washcloths over the edge of the sink, following Arthur out of the bathroom like a lost animal. He had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the still sleeping chaperones, glancing at Arthur with mirth in his eyes. Arthur nodded with a smile and peeled back the blankets, settling in. Alfred slid up behind him, holding him close and burying his noise in the junction of his shoulder and neck. Arthur sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>{AN: God I hope no one I have to look in the face ever reads this, since it's almost tragic how much both of them reflect my own quirks

I hate skating _so much you have no idea_}


	25. Starstruck

**Starstruck**

**December 23, 2008**

By the time the four semi-permanent tourists worked their way down to Frankfurt where Matt's exhibition game was going to be held, Gil, Matt, and Matt's father had been there for a few days – long enough that Matt had spent several full days of practice with his temporary teammates, and Gil had gotten bored of watching a sport he didn't really care about. When Matt's dad got a call from an unknown number in the middle of one of those days of intensive workouts, he'd been ecstatic at the distraction from watching hours of suicides and scrimmages and gleefully stolen the phone before Mr. Williams could finish saying, "Oh, hey, Al! Where are you?"

"Al! Listen, buddy, you gotta get me outta here, all of this hockey's driving me fucking _insane-_"

"_Gil, shut the fuck up and give the phone back to Uncle Parker. We're lost in this God forsaken city and I need directions._"

"Is that all? I can help you with that!" He made his excuses to Mr. Williams, who waved him off and went back to watching his son practice with the smattering of other visiting parents and friends that had joined their under twenty relatives in the trip to Germany, and headed outside. "Okay, you have a GPS?"

"_No shit, but it just keeps leading us in fucking circles._"

"Calm your tits, man! Roads around the arena are confusing, it's okay. Now, where are you?"

"_If I knew we wouldn't be in this mess, would we?_"

Gil sighed and pushed open the front doors of the arena, standing under the awning and looking out over the scattering of melting snow drifts in front of the expansive parking lot. "Just tell me what's nearby, dude."

"_Okay… we're going over a river… now."_

"Is it a main road?"

"_If you mean crowded as fuck, then yes._"

"You goin' north or south?"

"_How the fuck should I know?_"

"Ugh, fuck you too. Is there another bridge on the left or the right?"

A second's pause. "_Left._"

"Okay, you're going the right way. Just take the first exit after the bridge, and it's the big parking lot on the right. I'm waiting outside the front door whenever you get here."

"_Mkay. Thanks, I guess_." He hung up before Gil could tease him with 'You're welcome, asshole,' which made him huff into the phone and stuff it in his pocket. Still the same old dick Alfred.

He bounced on his feet to stay warm, moving from under the entrance eaves to sit on the raised concrete landscape holder, watching the road beyond the parking lot for any suspiciously English-looking car.

Finally, just when his butt was becoming numb instead of frozen, a dirty blue car turned off the main road and circled around to the lane in front of the arena. He grinned and hopped off the ledge, flicking a two fingered salute from his forehead as it stopped in front of him. He recognized Alfred's manager in the driver's seat, although the passenger side blond was a mystery. In the back, Alfred was pulling a playground face, hands waving like moose antlers and tongue sticking out, and the guy hidden behind Al's manager's head had to be that Arthur kid.

He pushed his nose up at Al with his finger in a pig face as he walked to where they were coasting to a stop, waiting for them to get out. The two in the back gladly climbed out, and Gil heard something about going to park before the other two left, circling around to the mostly empty lot.

"'Sup, wonder boy?" He punched Al in the arm lightly; Al scowled at him and punched back harder.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"As many as you want, but it won't do a thing." He glanced over at Arthur, who couldn't seem to quite be able to figure out how to react to him. Fans; always so adorably awkward. He grinned and stepped into his personal bubble, putting his hand flat on top of his head and moving it straight back to hit his hairline. Arthur pushed him away reflexively, but Gil cheered and did a spin of celebration.

"Finally, a guy that's shorter than me!" He slung his arm around Arthur's neck and swayed as he said, "If you weren't already my favorite person, you'd totally be that now. Well, 'cept for Mattie." Arthur squirmed out of his hold with a lot of blustering and cursing, putting a good distance between them this time as he shook out his hair to resettle it.

"Speaking of Matt, where is he?" Al asked, not looking happy that Gil had touched his boy toy – but then again, everything Gil did made him look upset. Gil thought it was hilarious when he wasn't busy reciprocating the emotion.

He jerked his thumb at the arena. "Practicin'. Been there for _weeks_, it feels like, not just a few days. Mr. Williams won't let me go off on my own even though I could totally handle it, and all he wants to do's watch the practices, so I've been stuck in there _forever_, and you gotta help me!" he pleaded, hanging off of Al's jacket by the final drawn-out word. Al shook him off and rolled his eyes.

"Well, first I need to go in and at least say hi to Uncle Parker, and I might as well introduce him to everyone else while I'm at it. _Then_ we'll talk."

"Fine, whatever." The manager and the unknown approached from the parking lot, and Gil nodded a greeting at them. "Hey."

The manager smiled politely. "Hello, Gilbert. It's been a while." Shit, he didn't remember the manager's name at all. Oh well, better to admit defeat than fake knowledge.

He shook the hand offered and grinned. "Sorry, man, but what's your name again?"

Gil had to give it to him, he had a way with the polite but empty smile. "It's Toris."

"Oh, right, I knew it was kinda funny." The unknown pursed his lips in a frown, which he ignored with the ease of practice as he switched handshakes.

"Feliks."

Something clicked in his head. "Oh, so _that's_ who you are! I should've guessed that." He stepped back and grinned at the two. "Hey, congrats, you guys. Matt told me about the whole engagement thing."

They both smiled, although not as much as he'd hoped. He felt his face grow hot and cursed his albinism for the millionth time in his life as he turned to go back in the arena. "Well, come on, let's get inside, it's freezing out here." He wormed his hands into his pants pockets, not looking to see if they were following.

So much for a good first impression.

* * *

><p>When they got to the arena and sat down by Matt's father, the team was starting their cool down for the morning's practice, so they decided to wait until Matt was out so they could break for lunch with him. Al immediately launched into a loud, fast-paced conversation with Mr. Williams, dragging more complete sentences from him than Gil had heard since meeting him in the Toronto airport three days ago. He almost sulked, but now he had Arthur to entertain him and that made life better.<p>

"I hate winter sports," Arthur grumbled, pulling his coat closer around him and sulking enough for both of them. Gil grinned from where he was sitting backwards on the bleachers the row in front of him and shrugged.

"Eh, when the place is crowded for the game, it won't be as cold." He leaned his hand on his chin. "So how you been, dude?"

Arthur shrugged. "Good enough as you can when you've been living out of a suitcase and a car for half a year."

Gil nodded in understanding. "Al been treatin' ya well?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I like you, I don't like or trust him. Pretty obvious to me." Arthur snorted and sat back, keeping his balance by lacing his fingers over his bent knee.

"He's paying for most of everything, so I can't slander his name, sadly." Gil laughed. He'd totally forgotten that Arthur was a riot to have a conversation with.

Behind him the final whistle blew, and the players started skating towards the exit to the locker rooms. Al looked up from his chat with Mr. Williams to wave enthusiastically at Matt; he was the only distinguishable padded-up player on the ice, although Gil couldn't tell if he was smiling or not as he waved slightly back. The best thing about Matt's hippie hair was that, even with a helmet and prescription goggles on, anyone could still pick him from a line-up a mile away.

The scattered onlookers started collecting their stuff and leaving, so Mr. Williams stood as if he was unfolding himself and jammed his baseball cap over his shorter and darker than Matt's but still hippie hair.

"C'mon, boys, let's go feed the bear." Al and Gil snorted simultaneously, glared at each other over it, and followed him towards the exit by the locker rooms to wait on Matt to get out.

* * *

><p>Gil thought it was hilarious how hungry all day hockey made Matt, laughing through his nose as he tried to shovel pasta in his mouth while talking to Al either about a devil or a dog – it was hard to tell which.<p>

"Animals, the both of them," Arthur commented next to him, sending a sidelong look at the cousins. The three adults were talking jobs and careers, leaving Arthur alone, to Gil's glee.

"Must be a family thing." He jerked his head at Mr. Williams, who, while not as wolfish in pace, was eating just as sloppily as the boys. Arthur snorted.

"A learned characteristic, maybe. Al's parents are perfectly acceptable and proper."

"I'd wait until you got on Mrs. Jones's bad side a few times before you said that," Gil corrected after another bite of his layered sandwich. "She's, like, the definition of a scary as fuck housewife."

"I heard stories back when Al was in high school," Arthur said with a grin. "Hopefully, I'll never have to experience that first hand."

"What're you two talking about?" Al asked with a little too much directed energy as Matthew stood and left to go get seconds from the buffet. Man, that kid had issues.

"Your mom," he bit back. Al sneered at him and looked at Arthur for the real answer.

Arthur couldn't hold in his smirky grin. "We _were_ talking about your mother, actually." Al blinked, and the other two laughed as Matt sat back down with his second heap of pasta.

"I don't want to know," he said with a wave of his fork before dragging Al back into a their pet-oriented conversation, and Arthur and Gil went back to talking about parents.

* * *

><p>They returned to the arena after not too long, Matt replenished for now and Gil and Arthur happily talking like old friends. Al pulled a hissy fit and bugged the three adults incessantly, for which Gil couldn't be happier.<p>

"So, why do you call Alfred 'wonder boy', anyway?" Arthur asked after a story from the 'Split Log' set. Gil cackled and leaned in closer so that Al wouldn't overhear and interrupt.

"Have you ever seen _Hercules_? The Disney version?"

Arthur shrugged. "A long time ago. It's been a while, at any rate. Why?"

Gil sat back and laced his hands behind his head. "Well, back before Al and I decided we didn't like each other, the main cast kids got together in someone's trailer after shooting one day for a Disney marathon. We were all, like, thirteen, stuck in the middle of the Texas desert, so we had shit to do otherwise."

"I can understand that, I believe." Gil smiled and shifted to lean on his knees.

"Well, anyway, somewhere in _Beauty and the Beast_ one of the cast girls told us how she'd always been the Belle of her elementary school friends, and before long we were all picking the Disney character that we thought we fit the best."

Arthur tilted his head in question. "And what were you, then?"

Gil grinned. "I was Hades."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And let me guess - Al was Hercules?"

"You got it." He leaned back on his hands, ignoring how the concrete floor dug into his palms. "Anyway, one of the rather many nicknames for Hercules in the movie is 'wonder boy', and we all started teasing him with it and stuff, and I guess it just got to him or something." He shrugged. "Never really asked why, to be honest. It's just funny to ruffle him up, and that's the fastest way to do it."

"I'll remember that." They watched the hockey players for a few moments in silence, then Gil gave a heavy sigh to break it.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

><p>Of course, Al wouldn't let Gil take his boy toy away alone, and Toris and Feliks didn't care about hockey at all, so all five of them ended up cramming into their small car, Arthur in the middle as the neutral ground between Al and Gil. They wandered around the metropolitan area of the city aimlessly, since they had just eaten and just gotten into the city and didn't quite know what to do with themselves. After a while, they found a parking spot somewhere and wandered on foot instead and found a zoo. Even though it was cold as hell outside, they paid their way in and joined the meager crowd at the enclosures.<p>

Al was irritating as all get out, and even Arthur could feel it. He was clingy, sulky, and overly emotional, snapping at everyone and trying to ignore Gil as much as possible. However, Gil happened to be a lot more perceptive than people though he was. Over the long, _long_ years of knowing Al, he'd come to understand that he really only acted this overly obnoxious around him.

Just because he knew this, though, didn't mean he had to do anything about it.

Al had gone ahead to the lion exhibit and was leaning on the fence texting - God only knew _who_ - as Gil took a few step's detour to scoop up a handful of snow from a dirty pile on the edge of the sidewalk.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked. Gil held up a finger over his grin that probably looked a little manic, then packed the snow together some as he snuck up behind Al, then shoved it down the back of his shirt and danced away as Al cried out in unpleasant surprise and flailed, almost dropping his phone into the exhibit in his panic. Gil cackled gleefully as Al rounded on him, shaking out the cold and melting snow from his shirt. "What the hell was _that_ for?"

"Just thought you needed to chill out, man! Don't be so touchy!" Al pulled a face at his bad pun, then bent down to get his own snowball. Gil crossed his arms and stood his ground. "Go on, try and hit me. See what it gets you."

Al advanced, bloodthirst in his eyes, but before Gil's bravery could truly be tested, Arthur stepped in between them.

"_Enough!_"

Al stopped where he was, pinned by Arthur's glare and the hand on his chest. "I'm sick and tired of having to babysit you brats, and I'm not going to do it all day!" He switched to glaring at Gil, and _Jesus_ in heaven, he thought _he_ had a deadly stare with his red eye thing. This kid could instill fear in the manliest of men. "If you two don't stop fighting like God damned preschoolers, so help me God, I'll tie you two together until you learn to behave or kill each other - and right now, I don't give a fuck what happens either way." Back to Al; Gil didn't dare breathe any easier, though. "Are we clear?"

"Yessir." They glowered at each other over the simultaneous agreement again. Arthur sighed and slapped them both upside the head.

"Quit that. Morons." He marched off to complain to Toris and Feliks, leaving Gil with Al. Gil scratched his head awkwardly while Al frowned at his shoes.

"Well, he sure is somethin'."

"Yeah. He is."

Gil grinned sheepishly at him. "Truce for today?"

Al shrugged. "Guess we got no choice." They didn't shake on it, but followed the others together in a mutual understanding of tolerance.

* * *

><p>Arthur never had to follow through with his ultimatum, although he did occasionally have to exhibit a physical reminder of his earlier scolding to whichever of them was nearest at the time. The rest of the day came and went, Matt getting out late from practice and crashing in the rental car while riding back to their hotel. The two groups decided to split then and meet the next day for Christmas Eve at the other's hotel, since it was nicer.<p>

A day of forced getting along did good for him and Al, Gil guessed. Maybe he might actually deserve that cheap present his mom had made him buy after all. After all, he was a dick, but when they had the fear of God instilled in them by a short and surly Englishman, he wasn't so bad.

Mostly.

* * *

><p>{AN: This chapter and my life fought me. In other words, though, I started two new AUs in the down time! Look for them coming up in future weeks.

One of them is even -_gasp!_- not focused on USUK!

Although it's still there, of course.}


	26. Greatest Hockey Power

**Greatest Hockey Power**

**December 28, 2011**

Matthew hated Germans.

It wasn't because of either of the World Wars; it wasn't the tinges of his Russian blood rearing their head; it wasn't even because of that tour group in Toronto he and some of his teammates had run afoul of a few years ago and ended up brawling with in the edgewaters of Lake Ontario.

No, he really hated them because they were bad at hockey.

It was towards the end of the second period and it was still a shutout, their goalie almost sleeping in the net while Matt's team skated circles around their German counterparts. Since Matt was a starter and one of the two assistant captains, he had already been taken off and subbed back in during intermission so they could have at least some leadership while the defender assistant captain was bleeding from a cut on his face caused by a frayed German glove.

And there was another reason to hate the Germans. They couldn't play for their shit (at least in comparison to the Canadians), and so played dirty to make up for it.

If he was really honest, he hadn't had such an easy game in months - probably since spring break at his cousin's pet campground. At least they had a reason for sucking. The easy part didn't really bother him, though. It was more the Germans' nasty attitudes at being soundly beaten that pissed him off.

He checked a German harder than necessary and rather needlessly into the boards, sending the puck around behind the goal to his striker and responding to the German insult thrown from the ground with a French one of his own. He hoped Quebecois wasn't too different from the school French taught in the area.

The whistle blew, and he growled at nothing. Fucking Germans. He thought only Frenchies took the dive.

He barely looked at the ref as he skated into the penalty box, slamming the door hard enough behind him for the glass to shake and shiver, glaring at the game and barking orders at the players. He'd forgotten they were winning spectacularly.

"Matt! Hey, Matt, behind you!"

He looked over his shoulder at the voice calling at him to find Al, grinning his head off and leaning against the other side of the box. "Having fun?" he yelled at Matt through the plexiglass. Matt rolled his eyes.

"What does it look like? I'm in the _penalty_ box."

Al shrugged. "But you're winnin'. Pretty badly at that."

"But it _sucks_."

Al moved from leaning on his shoulder to his forearm above his head and pressed his forehead against the glass just below it. "Calm down, it's just a game. Have fun beatin' some ex-Nazi ass and forget about it!"

Matt chuckled despite himself. "That's not very PC."

"Whatever." He stood back and slapped the glass as the power play ended and Matt stood up to go back out. "Give 'em hell!" he yelled after him. Matt saluted with his stick and came back out on the ice, his game grin back on and his breathing steady.

Oh, he'd make those Germans wish they'd never started playing hockey**.**


	27. Addicted

**Addicted**

**December 31, 2008**

The last hours of the old year found them back in their old bar of the city in Amsterdam, all seven of them sitting around two round tables pushed together. They were loud, obnoxious, and shameless about it, half of them smoking weed, all of them drinking, surrounded by rabble rousing locals and tourists alike, hiding from the windy snow flurries outside and bringing in the new year in style. Even Matt's dad was caught up in the moment, his younger days of passing a joint around on the banks of Labrador Bay coming out. Everyone there could see the family resemblance stronger than usual.

An hour before midnight, Arthur hand rested on Alfred's thigh and stayed there, tracing light patterns through his trousers with the tips of his fingers. Al sucked in a breath and turned it into a yawn, leaning over to Toris on his other side.

"I think Art and I are gonna head back early," he said only loud enough for his manager to hear. Toris gave him his _look_, and really, why did he have to know how to see through Al like Saran wrap?

"Be careful, Alfred."

Al smiled at him. "I'll be okay." Toris patted his shoulder, then scooted out of the way so he could stand, Arthur following. Gil and Matt were too busy hitting on the drunk women at the bar to pay them any attention. They easily slipped out the front door, walking close together for body heat. Of course.

For this stay in Amsterdam, since it was shorter, they had gone back to their two room arrangement, so there was nothing to stop them, slow them down. When the hotel door clicked closed behind them, they watched each other for a breath, the moment hovering between them.

It fell hard, surging together in an unbalanced kiss. Al quickly picked Arthur up for better leverage; he crossed his ankles over his back and held on by his neck and hair, tilting his head to the side and dipping his tongue into Al's open mouth, taking control while Al tried to not let him fall. He gave up and stepped forward to support him against the wall, reaching back to adjust one of Arthur's legs for better comfort to both of them. He traced his hand up the leg slowly, up to Arthur's hip, and slipped it under his coat and layers to massage hard into his side. Arthur sucked in a breath and kissed him harder, hand going down the back of Al's shirts, but blocked from going too far by the weight of his bomber jacket. Al laughed and broke away, breathing somewhat heavily with his forehead pressed against Arthur's. Arthur closed his eyes.

"C'mon, on your feet," Al whispered, backing away a little and loosening his hold on Arthur so his feet could fall to the ground, gliding his hands down Arthur's arms to take his cold hands in his own. He squeezed them, then let go so he could unbutton Arthur's coat. Arthur unzipped Alfred's bomber jacket while he did, then they both dropped their outer layers where they stood and moved over to the bed, Alfred falling back on it and inviting Arthur to climb over him with a smile.

Arthur looked away and took off his dark red turtleneck by the collar, undershirt crumpling up with it, but he left it on for now. He forgot about it on the floor and moved to straddle Alfred's waist, knees bent out. Al wasted no time in pulling him back down for a kiss, rubbing his free hand up and down his upper arm where it was propped up by his head. They were both more forceful than usual that night, crushing lips against gums when they weren't just tongues and clinking teeth. Arthur traced circles into Alfred's stomach with his short fingernails, feeling his muscles jump and tighten under his touch. He shifted off of bent knees down to lying on top of Alfred, flashes of skin touching. Al held his face softly and caressed his cheek in counterpart to their furious kissing.

Eventually, Arthur pulled his mouth away and unbuttoned the three buttons of Alfred's polo shirt so he could better push aside his collar for access to his throat, kissing and licking at the muscle he'd found made Alfred curse the most. He used teeth, didn't bite, and Al's breath shuddered hard.

"Ah, God damn." His hands wandered down Arthur's back, pulled up his undershirt and ran his hands up, down, up his skin, squeezed down the back of his pants. Arthur hummed into his neck and pulled back to kiss his mouth again, and that really was the best part. Al squeezed and grinned against his mouth; Arthur nipped at his bottom lip in revenge.

Without breaking the kiss, Arthur fumbled down and undid the snap of both of their pants, then pulled at his shoulders and rolled to the side, crossing his calves over his back and pinning Al's arms under his body. Al squirmed to get them in a better position, but the bed was nice with an overly fluffy comforter, contorting easily and pillowing out.

Alfred pulled back, eyes barely open, to watch Arthur's face. His eyes were still closed, hair sticking up in odd angles and mouth slightly open. After too long of not kissing, though, his eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Alfred, pupils dilated and green-rimmed. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." He smiled and bent in to kiss the corner of his mouth, down his cheek to his jaw and then his neck, staying there as he held Arthur's abdomen up against his own and let Arthur circle his hips lightly, unconsciously.

They were familiar with each other now. It didn't take much time to start stripping - themselves, each other, they didn't care, but each new inch of skin was a spark in the fire, crackling through both of them and heating up the room.

Before they knew it they were naked on the bed, lying on their sides in each other's arms and still kissing, always kissing, because they liked how each other felt and tasted and smelled and looked and thought. But that didn't really matter right then.

Arthur broke away softly, rested his forehead on Al's shoulder, and sighed, panting. Al hugged him close.

"Do you... really want to do this now?" Arthur asked in a whisper. Al squeezed him in with a long breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Okay, then." He backed out of Al's arms and sat up. "I need to get something, then."

"Okay." Al smiled goofily and let his hand trail down Arthur's leg as he moved away and dug around in his suitcase for the opened, but barely used, bottle of lube he'd bought in Milan while Feliks was sleeping in and Al and Toris were at an audition. (It was barely used because, even though they'd fooled around some since then, most of those times they'd been forced to use Toris and Feliks's supply for a plethora of reasons. If they noticed, they didn't comment.)

Arthur came back to Al, who was propped up on his side and watching. He pulled him up to a sitting position so he could better climb in his lap.

"How would you like to do this, love?"

Al cupped his face in his hands and rested their foreheads together. "You always do everything for me," he whispered, a nose away from his mouth. "This time I want to do everything for you."

Arthur laughed a little, rubbing his hands up Al's sides. "You always do something for me, whether you mean to or not." Al beamed and tilted his chin up for a quick kiss that stretched out long. Arthur's smile loosened it enough for words. "But, if you insist..." He fell to the side, taking Alfred with him so he was stretched over him again, linking their fingers together and pressing the bottle into his palm. Al grinned again.

"You're so weird sometimes." But he took it and rubbed the side of his nose up Arthur's, mouth dragging wherever it could. "But that's why I like you."

"Sure, whatever. Now get on with it." Al kissed him to stop his grousing, and Arthur let himself get lost in the give and take of it, making Al take some responsibility for the lubing and the mechanics. He barely noticed Al unhooking one of his legs from where it was wrapped around Alfred's waist, sprawling it to the side inelegantly. He just moaned lightly into his mouth and pulled him down harder. Al wrenched away, laughing.

"For someone who wants this to happen, you're not really helping it along." Arthur shrugged a little, smirked. Al's eyes crinkled, but he was a quick learner and slid slick hands down Arthur's body, a few slides up and down his cock, but gone before Arthur could appreciate it, further down. Arthur shuddered - anticipation, anxiety, it _had_ been a while, after all - and buried his face in Al's neck as he spread wider and relaxed.

"Here we go." Alfred's fingers circled around, unsure, but just when Arthur was going to snap at him to get _on_ with it already, he pushed his middle finger in, slowly.

Arthur smiled and opened his mouth over Al's pulse, felt no shame in sucking with teeth and intent. Al flinched against his temple, but it was the good kind of flinch - the kind of flinch that made him manhandle Arthur into a better position with a bent leg and replace one finger with two. Arthur didn't want to beg, but he let go of Al's neck to kiss him on the mouth again and started a rhythm, a friction, and they'd fall off sometimes and they didn't even giggle like usual, just got back on track, sometimes a better one than before.

"Just tell me what feels good," Alfred said again his mouth, lips brushing with his words. Arthur tried to open his eyes and gave up, let the tingle of arousal burn through his muscles and tendons and other bits of body. He nodded, swallowed, and set about trying to bruise Alfred into his.

Al pressed all three fingers - when did the third get there? - up and _in_. Arthur arched, and he did it again, a hard roll with his whole arm and trying to turn Arthur into pudding. It worked, for a while.

"Hurry the fuck _up_, Al, Christ, _now_," he gasped, frustrated. Al tried not to smile at his impatience as he took his free hand out of Arthur's hair, where it had been tangling it as much as was possible when it was barely an inch long, so he could find the lube where he'd dropped it earlier. It was still open and leaking on the white comforter, but he ignored the blue stain and just wiped up the excess (_waste not_) to slick himself up, going by instinct because he was still pushing Arthur's buttons with his other hand, Arthur halfway doing it himself, but it was hotter than his open panting mouth and bared neck.

He pulled his hand out, his skin slighting up at Arthur's whine, and held Arthur's hips with both hand to twist him up to a better angle. Arthur crossed his ankles almost at his shoulder blades, and he wasn't even that drunk anymore. Al held himself steady, bit his lip, staring down at Arthur's face.

"Hey. Look at me."

Arthur forced his eyes open and met Al's, not too far from his own. "Yes?"

Al smiled. "I just like your eyes." Arthur's heart thumped in a chitter, and Al pushed in, mouth falling open and eyes falling closed. Arthur gritted his teeth and hugged Al's neck hard, breathing, just breathe. Al didn't stop, thrusting in shallowly, but still moving; it was his first time, he was helplessly impatient. He felt Arthur's erection flag a little against his stomach, but fuck, it'd come back, Arthur had the libido of - well, a horny teenaged boy.

Maybe they _were_ too young for this.

"Hey." Arthur's hand on the side of his face guided him away from his neck so he could see him, cold with sweat and not acting like Al had his dick up his ass. He'd noticed. "You all right, love?"

"You've done this before, right?" It blurted out before Al's mind could tell him stop, that was stupid. "Sorry, I mean, yeah, of course you have, duh, but-"

"Alfred." Arthur was laughing. "Oh, stop, really." He kissed Al's cheek. "Yes. I've told you that. It's all right. I'll help you."

"Good. Good."

Arthur almost rolled his eyes, but rolled his hips instead. "It's a good thing you're more attractive than adorable, otherwise this would probably be a lot stranger." He rolled hard enough for it to be called a thrust. "Now come on, boy. Don't make me do this all by myself."

"Yeah. Yeah."

Al breathed, then surged into a hard kiss, tongue straight to Arthur's molars, and made the pace of the sex match, fiery and sudden and a wave. Arthur clung and rode it, letting him do what he wanted with his body because it was so nice to be needed, desired. He had little finesse, but Arthur only noticed in a corner of his mind, mostly swamped with Al in and around and surrounding him. He could live inside this.

Alfred's stamina was still a work in progress, unfortunately. His thoughts swam, drowned, and he gasped into Arthur's mouth and came hard inside, Arthur sucking on his bottom lip and keeping the rhythm through his climax. He hummed in the fall down, nuzzling into Arthur's slightly scratchy cheek and hands roving without even realizing. Arthur forced himself to breathe slow and even.

"You'll be the death of me," he whispered into Alfred's mouth, not really kissing anymore, just touching lips. Al was too sated to do anything but make a small noise of agreement and smile. Arthur was patient, but not overly. When the sweat between their chests started to make him shiver, he reached up and gave him a whack on the back of the head - not hard, but enough to get his attention.

"Alfred."

"Hmm?"

"Remember what I said last time about the two-way street?"

"Hmm?"

"_Alfred, God in heaven, I swear if you don't help me out right now, I'll make you sleep on the floor tonight!_"

Al groaned and pushed himself up on his hands, hovering over Arthur and kissing his forehead in more of a brush. "It's okay, I got you." He shifted down on one elbow, letting his other hand roam over Arthur's bare chest, stomach, slipping his softening cock out of him so he could crouch above him for more room. Arthur winced at the feeling and tried not to let Alfred's come slip out too much on the bed. It was a nice comforter that he would rather not have the hotel charge them for. Al kissed him as he wrapped his roaming hand around Arthur's cock, and he'd learned how Arthur liked it over the past few months, at least.

He moved to only his knees, making Arthur sit up a little to keep the liplock, but he wanted to be able to still touch him. He slid his hand up and down his arm in time with his slow, hard pulls at his cock, then pressed their hands together and wove their fingers in. Arthur smiled a little against his mouth and bucked into his hand.

It didn't take long for Arthur to come then, fingers in a death grip on Al's knuckles and breaking away from the kiss to throw his head back and give a weak cry. Al kissed the underside of his jaw and stroked him until he was done. They watched each other for a bit, then broke down giggling for no reason, collapsed on each other and giddy. Alfred rolled to the side, still holding Arthur's hand, and they laid there, laughing and staring at the stucco ceiling.

"You know, I just took your virginity," Arthur observed, letting his head fall to the side so he could smile at Alfred. Al shrugged and brought their clasped hands up so he could kiss each of Arthur's knuckles.

"Yeah, well, I've been figurin' ya would for a while." Arthur held in another laugh.

"How long is 'a while', then?"

"A while." Arthur rolled over with the intent to lie on top of him but didn't quite make it, ending up with his head on his shoulder and a leg over both of Al's. Of course, neither of them really had any problem with this; Al just moved his arm around to cradle his head, keeping their hands linked, and closed his eyes.

"We should probably get under the blankets before we fall asleep."

"Probably."

It took them a few more minutes to work up the will to move, but eventually they both got under the soft comforter and lying properly on the pillows rather than diagonally, like they had somehow ended up doing. Arthur burrowed back into Alfred's arms without asking, pulling his arms around and lacing their fingers together over his chest. Al smiled against the back of his neck and pulled him in tighter.

"Happy New Year, Arthur."

"You too, Al."

* * *

><p>{AN: This probably could have been better, since I've been building up to it for a story and a half, but it's done now.}


	28. Strawberry Wine

**Strawberry Wine**

**January 1, 2009**

Alfred woke up first that morning, warm and sticky and comfortable. The sheets were too smooth against the parts of him that usually had clothes on them when he went to sleep, but the warm back against his chest and the hands still wrapped around his own felt soft and warm and he never wanted to have to move.

And then he tasted his own mouth and almost jerked Arthur awake in his distaste.

Carefully, he extracted himself from Arthur, sparing a moment to kiss the exposed side of his neck before sitting up. Arthur shifted but didn't quite wake up, eyebrows furrowing before he ducked his head down deeper into the pillow. Al smiled and went into the bathroom as quietly as he could, grabbing a pair of boxers from his open suitcase on the way. Walking around fully naked just felt weird.

He leaned against the door frame as he brushed his teeth, watching as Arthur unconsciously searched for him before slowly rolling awake, bereft and cute about it. Not that he'd ever say that out loud to him.

When Arthur finally turned over to see him watching from the other side of the bed, he was too groggy to be grumpy and smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey yourshelf," he said through his toothpaste and his grin, such as it was. They laughed, and he ducked back into the bathroom to spit and wipe his mouth. Arthur was curled up on his side again when he came back out, so he got back under the covers behind him and hugged him close.

"You should go brush your teeth, too, so I can kiss you better." Arthur chuckled and turned his face a little to look over his shoulder. Al kissed the stubbly skin he could reach, and he laughed louder and jerked away.

"Maybe in a minute." He pulled Al's arms closer around him and sighed, settling down, but going back to sleep wasn't on Alfred's agenda.

In a daring, dangerous move, he freed his top arm and threw back the covers, exposing them to the room temperature in a rush, and before Arthur could shiver and beat him back, he grabbed him around the waist and rolled them off the bed, landing with a heavy _thud_ on the floor. They both groaned at the impact, but Alfred recovered first and pulled them to their feet, turning Arthur in the process so they were chest to chest. They chose to ignore the awkward atmosphere caused by their lack of any shred of clothing and simply smiled at each other, even Arthur.

"You had fun last night, right?" Arthur rolled his eyes, still smiling. Alfred grinned and kissed his cheek before letting him go. "Go on, clean up. I'll still be here."

"You're impossible."

"So you've said."

Arthur ducked into the bathroom to follow suit with the teeth brushing while Al searched around the room for his discarded shirt, then decided it wasn't worth it and found a new one from his suitcase. As he pulled it over his head, Arthur came back out of the bathroom with a clean mouth and stepped in close, running his hands over his still exposed stomach.

"Seems a bit silly to get dressed so soon," he murmured, watching his skin get covered by the old T-shirt. Alfred snorted.

"Maybe, but I like having clothes on when I can, thanks." He shuffled his hands through his hair to settle it out and raised his eyebrows at still naked Arthur. "You should think about it, too."

Arthur hummed and shrugged. "In a tic." He pushed at Al a little until he walked backwards and fell back on the bed laughing until Arthur's mouth cut him off, slower than last night and cool with mint. Alfred wove his fingers together at the small of his back for balance and forced his tongue in, traced the ridges of his palette. Arthur sighed and relaxed over him, and he was heavy and Alfred didn't care. They kissed for a while, hands roaming and Arthur's catching on the few clothes Al had on until he pulled away, propping up on his elbows over Al. He combed his fingers through his hair, and Al hummed, leaning into it with closed eyes.

"I wonder if any of them are worried about us," Al murmured, stroking a hand up and down Arthur's upper arm.

"Let them worry." Al smiled and cracked open his eyes, blue and black, and Arthur bit his lip against the shriek of his heart and the thump of his mind. Al craned up and pecked his cheek, grabbing his neck and pulling him back down when he flopped back, a hungry mouth and sweetness. Arthur sucked in a shaky breath and shifted so they were more comfortably pressed together, and the slight bunch in Al's boxers was out from under his dick. Al moaned and bucked up, and that was all Arthur needed to sit back and coax him out of his underwear, leaving the shirt on. It was soft, and Alfred's upper body looked too good in it.

Al slid back on the bed some so he wasn't sitting on the edge, kicking off his boxers and pulling Arthur up to him again. Missionary might be boring to some, but Alfred was finding that face to face was his favorite position.

Arthur pushed his knees apart and stretched out between them, languid and elegant as a tiger, jelly boned as he held Alfred's head and turned the kissing pace slow and light, barely touching anywhere but touching everywhere. Al squirmed for more, latching a leg around his waist and trying to tug him in, harder, pulling out more of this he craved. Arthur smiled and stroked through his hair, oily from last night's sweat and need of a wash, but still soft and thick. He traced his hands down his face, neck, arms, sides, teasing him with feather touches, the pads of his fingers through thin cloth. Al shuddered bodily when he reached the hem above his hips, ghosting where they weren't already touching; he was putty in Arthur's hands, mouth, his being.

Arthur pulled back, sitting on his knees with both of Al's legs now bent around him. "Oh, where is that pesky lube," he muttered, looking around and hoping he wouldn't have to leave the circle of Alfred to reach it. Al laughed and sat up on his elbows, joining the visual search while keeping Arthur locked in.

They found it under a pillow a stretch to Arthur's left and over Al's head, with a kiss along the way. Arthur squeezed a little out while Al's tongue forced into his mouth, then capped it and tossed it off the side of the bed, sitting back despite Al trying to follow his mouth up, grinning as he lifted one of Alfred's legs with his not lubed hand to drape it over his shoulder. Al gulped and shifted to accommodate.

They had tried this once or twice - usually Arthur controlled the pace, and usually he pulled Al on top - but he didn't only take all the time, and he wasn't completely in charge _all_ of the time.

Plus, Al was made out of curiosity.

He nodded, and Arthur let his fingers go, swirl down his abs, trace his hip bone and touch his cock, not grip, before they slid past and down, not in yet. He watched Al's face, braced and clenched but not against this. Arthur rolled his head to rest against the knee on his shoulder; "You're my promise," he breathed, didn't understand it. Al laughed and relaxed.

"You say some weird shit sometimes, man."

"Shush, you're ruining the moment."

Al grinned. Arthur circled his entrance before pushing a finger in, the first two joints enough to send his head back and breath panting. All Al could feel was the finger in his ass, his hamstrings straining, the thudding in his ears and Arthur's stubble against his knee. He wasn't fully aware of his squirming, in, away, trying to accustom this new sensation that was making his brain go blank. Just watched him writhe was enough for Arthur at first, feeling the sensitivity and knowing that it was _his-_

He kept that one finger moving as he slid down, Al's leg still over his shoulder as he laid between his legs, kissing the skin above his hand softly. Al's breath lost its rhythm as his hands shook for Arthur, shook into his hair.

He mouthed his way up, tongue pressing like a wide finger against flesh, lapping one of his balls into his mouth and _sucking_.

"Jesus in Heaven," Al cursed, fingers dragging into scalp and arching into Arthur's - _Arthur_. Too much.

Al pulled his head back, away from his groin area, breathing deep. Arthur stopped moving, waiting, but when Al didn't do anything but lie there and breathe for too long, he sat up. "You okay, love?"

"Fine. Just fine. Just- stop for a sec, 'kay?" Arthur nodded even though Al's eyes were closed, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the sheet. This was what every time before had ended as - Al stopping him, pulling him into his arms, and never letting go.

But it was the morning this time, and there might be people worried about their safety. They had texted Toris when they arrived at the hotel lobby the night before, but that was their last contact. Hell, maybe the others had fallen into the canals in their much later, much drunker stumble back.

Arthur curled into Alfred's side, head on his chest, letting the arousal pounding through him dull as he listened to the slowing rise and fall of Alfred's lungs. Alfred wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

When his heart rate was back to normal, he turned on his side, facing Arthur, and hugged him tight to look over his shoulder at the clock on the night stand. "If we don't get dressed and out soon we'll miss free breakfast."

"It's not free, we've just already paid for it."

"Whatever. I'm hungry."

Arthur groused, but they got up and started pulling the fragments of their lives together, taking quick showers separately because, otherwise, they'd never leave. Arthur kissed him hard before Al could open the door, but didn't linger and followed him out towards the lifts with a small smile.

Al's arm swung out to grab his hand as they walked, and he let him hold it tightly until the noise of the dining room of the hotel grew distinct enough to make out Gil's obnoxious laughter.

* * *

><p>{AN: Come back from exam/Christmas break with my biggest tease yet. Just keepin' it real, guys *snaps and winks*

I should be better about updating now that I'm away from home, but the key word is 'should'.}


	29. Changin' Your Demeanour & Whispering

**Changing Your Demeanour **

**January 3, 2009**

Before they knew it, it was time for the Williamses and Gil to head back to the States. They said goodbye in the hotel parking lot, since it would be silly for the road trippers to follow them to the airport just to come right back when they didn't even need the car. Mr. Williams slung the last bag in the car while the four boys put off goodbye, but the slam of the trunk was final. Matt and Al leaned on the side and murmured close, ducked in. Gil lifted Arthur off the ground in a bear hug, but he laughed through his protests of being manhandled and patted him on the back until he let go.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Gil said when he was back on his feet, pulling at his turtleneck collar to straighten it out as he backed away. "Don't let Al get the better of ya. Bad for his head."

Arthur grinned. "All right, Mr. Kettle."

Gil snorted and pushed at his shoulder, then used the momentum to turn to the car and steal shotgun from Matt, who was still shoulder pressed against Al. Matt stuck out his foot to trip him but missed, so he sighed and pushed out of his lean, fiddling with his glasses, his hair. Alfred caved first this time and crushed him in a hug. Matt patted his back a few times, then stepped away with a small 'bye' and ducked into the back seat.

Arthur pulled Alfred away from the car as Mr. Williams turned on the engine, waving at Matt and Gil - the former hiding behind a smile, the latter making silly faces against the glass - and then they were gone.

Alfred sighed and clutched Arthur's wrist too tightly for a moment, then let go and turned to Feliks and Toris.

"Y'all ready to get out of here?"

* * *

><p><strong>Whispering<strong>

**January 10, 2009**

It was a cold but clear skied day when the four of them pulled into the parking lot of the Dachau concentration camp outside of Munich.

All of them had some sort of connection to World War II - Feliks and his family's forced immigration, Alfred and his two killed-in-combat great uncles, Toris's occupied hometown that still had a few lingering scars - even Arthur, whose childhood boarding school was famous for being a makeshift veteran's hospital during desperate times. No one was laughing as they entered the small welcome center to buy tickets for the guided tour, although Alfred still eavesdropped on Felik's German conversation with the cashier to see how much he understood.

They waited with a few other English speakers for their language's guide to come back and start them off. The language made conversation easy and instant, almost desperate - all of them were starved for their more natural tongue. The guide returned from his last tour before long and led them on, Al and Arthur falling into step with an Australian brother and sister slightly younger than them, who were visiting Europe for the skiing, and had been dragged here by their parents during a break in the powder days. They whispered to each other in the back of the group, friendship fast as the youngest around.

The tour didn't try to make things nice. The small indoors gallery before the outside leg of the tour was lined with grainy, grayscale photographs of squalor, brutality, inhumanity. It took a few moments to settle in, but soon it was stone quiet in the colorless room except for the tour guide's oddly accented voice.

He led them outside before too long; the cold air was biting and welcomed, even if it meant going to many of the places shown in the photographs. Alfred bumped his arm against Arthur's and twitched a smile at him when he looked up at him, curious and somber. Arthur's face softened back, but didn't quite smile. It wasn't the place for that, and even the younger Australian sibling understood that, forgoing his sulking at being dragged from his boarding to pay attention to the guide.

The tour ended at the entrance gates, back next to the gift shop. Some people dabbed their eyes, and the four of them decided it was a good time to move on. Alfred and Arthur waved goodbye to the brother and sister on their way out of the parking lot. Neither pair ever remembered the other's names.

Al clutched Arthur's hand in the backseat as they drove away, and Arthur let him, lacing their fingers together.

At least they didn't have a video. Otherwise Al might have actually cried.

* * *

><p>{AN: Mmm I'm getting close to the end. Finally! Don't get me wrong, I love my AU, but I'm ready to be able to tick it to 'complete'. I just have until... April... about... 20... scenes...

Well. Yeah. They might be short.

I probably didn't do justice to the concentration camp, but I tried, therefore no one should criticize me.}


	30. Hittin' the Bars

**Hittin' The Bars (Score)**

**January 14, 2009**

In Dresden they went club hopping.

It wasn't long into the night before Alfred and Arthur were tipsy and separated from Toris and Feliks, who were still liplocked in a booth somewhere two clubs ago. They hovered at the edge of the dance throng, bending in so they could hear each other shout over the beat and bass of the music.

"Okay, whoever dances with the most girls before we get to the other side wins!" Al yelled. Arthur smirked at him and slid his fingertips up his bare forearm, teasing around where he'd shoved up the sleeves of his button-up. Al snapped in to kiss his cheek, nibble his ear, smell his hair, something, but Arthur laughed and darted away, sticking out his tongue before ducking into the outskirts of the crowd.

Well, Al wasn't about to give him a headstart.

The next half hour was sweat, pulse, sticky hair and a heartbeat in his breastbone, soft hips in his hands matched to eyes and dresses and faces. He kept a tally without thinking, but he was watching for short and scruffy, green eyes in ash and black.

And then the body jam found them out, forced up and Al's hands settled on his waist automatically, Arthur's skimming up his arms again. This wasn't a private moment - there were two girls behind Arthur's back, and someone Al's size was off rhythm and perpendicular to his left shoulder - but eyes locked, _intensity_, and they kept their paces against each other.

"Twenty four," Arthur reached up to shout in his ear, staying there with hands gripped on Al's shirt collar. Al slid his hands around to slip into Arthur's back pockets, wondering how many people had done the same that night, wondering why the thought made him burn. "And four men." The burn flared, and no one cared so Al kissed him fiercely, biting, breathless when he began. Arthur held him closer and rolled into it, hips and up, purring, vibrations crawling over Al's skin from where they touched.

Arthur pulled back to lick away the sweat trickling down Al's neck, and he gasped and got strands of Arthur's hair stuck in his mouth, but he didn't notice. He forced them together harder, fanning the burn that was shuddering through his body with the juts and give of Arthur cutting into him, washing his ration away. Arthur opened his mouth over his skin and scraped it with his teeth, canines dragging. Alfred's fingers gripped, and he felt Arthur moan, so he grinned and messed with him, dancing his fingers around. Arthur bit him in retaliation, and he laughed, didn't put too much into it. There was a trance he didn't want to tear.

The music pulled them, eyes slits and other people's sweat slicked over their bodies, fingers in soaked cloth and breath smoke-heavy with the air of the club hovering over their heads. The dancers rocked around them, flowed in a storm.

"You never gave me your answer," Arthur said during a drop. What wasn't dilated from the dark and the neon was acid, and Al couldn't lie.

He bent in and lipped at Arthur's earlobe. "Twenty one." Arthur's predator smile spread.

"Well, come on, then!" He took one of Al's hands out of his pocket and started to twist his way off the floor, keeping hold of his prize and making for the door.

Al grinned and let the residues of the beat sink in as they ran out of the club back towards their hotel, caging the spell inside for a little longer. Just for a little longer.

* * *

><p>{AN:

I'm not sorry.}


	31. Snowballed & Ticket To Ride

**Snowballed**

**January 23, 2009**

Small towns were turning into their refuges. After so long away from home, all four travelers were aching for the feel of family and familiarity, and big cities were too swallowing, too anonymous for them. The little villages peppered across the countryside, dots on their map, were peaceful, undisturbed, and it was nice to talk to people settled in life and borrow a little of their contentment.

Sometimes the villages were tiny enough that their mere foreign presence sent ripples through the community, and they'd find themselves inspected on the streets and grilled for answers in the lone restaurant or bar in the town. They all got somewhat better at German, even Arthur, who had the least prior experience with the language, since bilingualism wasn't too popular on backcountry Bavarian roads.

They had been in their current small town for a few days now - long enough to make a few friends. It was late January, full winter, but when they woke up to a fresh powdering of snow and a still snowfall, they pulled their winter gear on and went outside.

The kids of the village were setting up what was promising to be a massive snowball war, and when they saw the four of them walking out of the inn across the street from their empty field of a park, they begged and screamed for them to join, fighting over who would be on whose team. Al and Arthur were separated by excited children, while Toris and Feliks were dragged to the forming third team, all three snowforts making a lopsided triangle of a battleground. They weren't the oldest on the field - a few siblings had been pulled out of their beds, along with a father or two to help build the forts - but there were among the seniors, and therefore looked to for orders and guidance. Al had a childhood in northern Canada to draw from, and Toris from Lithuania, so their teams followed their orders with cold-red hands as they gleefully packed snow in preparation for the approaching battle.

In just a short time, all the three teams were ready; one of the fathers used his scarf as a starting flag, and he sprinted out of the way as chaos erupted.

No holds were barred in the battle, with incessant volleys going every direction, brave souls dashing into no-man's-land for hands-on attacks, the search for ammunition constant. Feliks and Toris found themselves shoved down in the rear lines, packing snowballs for the kids with more ferocity and better aim to take from them.

"You have to pack it in hard, like brown sugar," Toris instructed Feliks, who had spent his entire life in southern California. Feliks's gloves were soaked clean through, along with most of his pants and his hair, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face as he patted snow into throwable form under his fiance's guidance. He was slower, of course - Toris somehow made three for every one of his, and it was impossible to keep to his pace - but he couldn't bring himself to care.

No matter how old he was or where they were, he'd always be immature about snow.

"They don't have to be perfect spheres, as long as they don't fall apart," Toris when he lingered on fine-tuning the shape of one. Feliks rolled his eyes with a smile and gave it to the waiting adolescent.

"You say that as if yours aren't perfect, anyway." Toris grinned and gave the kid his perfect sphere of snow.

"Lots of practice, that's all."

The battle raged for well over an hour, encroaching on two, but the snow stopped falling and the snow on the ground was too torn at and churned up for efficient gameplay anymore, and people were starting to notice the pain and cold through their fun, so they took a recess for lunch and for the hopes that the weather would restore their ammunition supply. One of the parents playing on Toris and Feliks's team, whose house bordered the park, invited the four of them over, and they had soup and sandwiches by the fire, talking and laughing in their now familiar language mix while they tried to thaw out.

The family had a boy and girl, both under ten years old, and they were quick to latch on to Al's attention and talk his ear off, dragging him to the floor. After lunch was eaten, Feliks (who loved kids, maybe wanted some of his own one day) joined them on the carpet, and was immediately accepted by the girl, who was learning that fashion existed and was delighted when he complimented her plastic dress-up shoes.

Outside of the living room's back windows, Arthur watched the snowball battle pick back up, but it was a shadow of the morning's glory. A lot of the smaller children were tired and cold from the morning, along with a good portion of the elders. It was only those with a score to settle or boundless energy who returned, and the park resembled more of a normal snow day than the anarchy of earlier. He smiled over his coffee, but with a glance at the four on the floor, he decided against bringing up a return to the outdoors and burrowed further into his chair, happy to listen to the conversation and try to pull out the bits of German he understood from the father and Toris's conversation about either guests or gestures, he couldn't quite tell which.

Eventually, though, the children slowed and yawned, tuckered out from their busy Saturday, and the travelers took their leave from the family so the parents could feed their sleepy children and tuck them into bed. They caught their own dinner in the downstairs restaurant of their inn before heading up to their rooms. Their clothes were still vaguely stiff and dirty from their frozen soaking earlier; a couple of hot showers later, the physical activity caught up with all of them and they fell into bed, asleep when the sun had barely even set.

They never really talked about it with each other, but they all agreed that that was one of the best, most fondly-remembered days of the whole trip.

* * *

><p><strong>Ticket To Ride<strong>

**January 30, 2009**

After lingering in small German towns for a month, they decided to switch to small Polish towns, heading for the country border at last. It was early afternoon on a cold and blindingly sunny day, and everyone was in good spirits. When they were less than three miles from the border, though, Toris suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, the car slowing under his foot.

"Wait a second."

"What?" He glanced over at Feliks in the passenger seat with a stone-cold sober stare.

"We haven't gotten our German parking ticket yet. _We have to go back_."

The other three gasped in utter horror at this unspeakable tragedy and yelled at him to turn around and go back to that town a few miles back, _now_. He pulled a U-turn at the next possible opportunity while they laughed and wondered how they had let this happen in the first place.

So far, they had maintained an impressive streak of getting exactly one parking ticket in each of the dozen countries they'd been in, no matter how long or short the time spent in that country was. (Hell, they'd even managed to get one in their half-day side stop in Andorra on the Spanish-French border.) Somehow, though, despite having spent more time in German than any other country, they had managed to never be caught at their illegal parking habits.

Like hell there were going to break that chain now.

They screeched into the border town and parked in front of a fire hydrant for a late lunch/early dinner, and sure enough, a ticket was pinned underneath their windshield wiper when they came out. They could now officially leave the country.

Of course they were never going to actually _pay_ for them. It was just fun to see how many languages they could be passive-aggressively scolded in, and to come up with the situations to make the police frustrated enough to give them a ticket in the first place.

Plus, they'd look awesome in Feliks's scrapbook.

* * *

><p>{AN: Okay, I needed that break, but now it's time to wrap this fucker up and send it on its way to finished land}


	32. Fast Cars and Freedom

**Fast Cars and Freedom**

**February 7, 2009  
><strong>

"You know, Fel," Al said with a laugh as the two of them walked down a Warsaw sidewalk on an early Saturday morning, looking for breakfast while Arthur slept in and Toris had a business call, "the longer we spend in Poland, the harder it gets to believe your family is actually _from _here."

Feliks stopped in his tracks; Al took a few more steps before he realized he wasn't following and turned. Feliks's face was caught between shocked, appalled, and insulted. 'Oh my God, did you seriously just doubt my Polishness?"

Al blinked. "Uh-" But Feliks was having none of it. He stomped forward and grabbed Al's wrist, dragging him back the way they came and ignoring Al's protests and questions, digging in his shoulder bag with his free hand while muttering to himself.

A block back, he turned into an unattended parking lot between two buildings, eyes darting around the cars there.  
>"What the hell are you-"<p>

"Ah! Perfect!" Once again Al's shoulder was nearly yanked out of its socket by the force of Feliks, who made a darting beeline for a gaudy gold car that was probably the hottest thing in 1995. He crouched down by the driver's door, pulling Al down beside him. "Hello, gorgeous," he crooned to the car, petting its scratchy paint job. Al gave him a look.

"You know this car is a piece of shit, right."

Feliks's feral grin was unlike anything he'd ever seen on his face before. "Exactly, sweetcheeks." Al's mouth flopped open, and Feliks pulled out a handful of small household items from his shoulder bag. "My brothers taught me this when they were scared I wasn't a man," he explained in a low voice as he started to pick the lock (after trying the handle first and making sure it wasn't unlocked, of course). Al blinked, and- what did breaking into a crappy car have to do with being Polish?

"Fel, what are you doing, we're going to get _arrested_-" Feliks stuck his tongue out at him, bobby pin and paperclip in each hand.

"Come on, loosen up, Alfie! Haven't you ever had fun in your life?"

Al scouted back at the parking lot entrance nervously and hissed, "Not _illegal _fun-"

But the lock clicked. Feliks let out a snort of success, and he stepped back in his crouch to open the door. "C'mon, get in!"  
>"<em>What?<em>"

Feliks shoved him in before he could scatter or brace himself, and it was a bench seat so he slid across when Feliks slid in after him. He ducked down to play with the wires under the steering column while Al watched him in anxious awe. "Christ, Fel, how did I never know you were this batshit _insane_?"

"I hide it well." The engine kicked, and Feliks straightened, slamming his door closed and putting the car into gear. "Hold on, cowboy!"

Al had just enough time to grab the oh shit bar before Feliks screeched out of the lot and into the road. It wasn't a busy time in the city, so the streets weren't too crowded, but there were definitely some curses thrown in their dust as Feliks weaved around the traffic and gunned it as much as the old engine could take. Feliks was demonic and laughing, taking every turn in exaggeration and almost fishtailing twice. Al was muttering prayers under his breath, apologizing to those they passed and cut off in his head and cementing his grip at every curve. He didn't dare let go of his safety bar to buckle up, so held on to the bar with both hands instead.

"Slow down!" he yelled, but Feliks just laughed and ran a red light. Al heard the horns blaring from either side and hid his face in his sleeve. It was _way _too early in the morning for this.

Through the miracles of luck and prayer, the police never caught wind of their joyride. Feliks downshifted too fast when they got back to the lot, and Al was too concentrated on not dying, eyes clenched tight, that it took almost flying into the dashboard to realize they'd stopped. He looked over at Feliks, heart pounding in his ears and breathing hard. Feliks was smirking with his arms crossed, sitting back against the cheap leather seats.

"So? Still don't think I'm Polish?"

Al blinked at him, still not quite caught up. "What does grand theft auto and drivin' like a bat outta hell hafta do with bein' Polish?"

Feliks sighed dramatically and slipped out of the car, kicking at his hijack wires on the way out and killing the engine. Al slid out after him, still shaking and confused.

Was that a stereotype or something?

* * *

><p>{AN: Because Al has his stick in the mud moments, too

Raise your hand if you still care about this story}


	33. Just 'Cause We Can

**Just 'Cause We Can**

**February 18, 2009**

Al thumped into the car and let out a frustrated sigh. Arthur gave him a raised eyebrow from the driver's seat. "Can I help you, love?" Alfred just sighed again and pulled at his hair. Arthur waited.

"I really, _really_ miss being able to talk to a cashier." Ah.

"Have fun in the shop, then?" Al groaned and slumped down in his seat, the drink he'd gone in to buy resting on his stomach. Arthur started the car again and merged back onto the road, heading towards the impromptu concert they'd convinced Feliks and Toris they could go to alone, letting Alfred sulk. He'd talk when he was ready.

He frowned at his soda without opening it. The wrapper was written in Polish. "I miss English."

"Don't we all."

"Like, I _really_ miss it." He sighed and twisted off the cap. "It's gonna be great to get to Scandinavia, at least."

Arthur nodded and shrugged. "Yes, well, this just hasn't been a particularly exciting leg of the trip. It'll pass, and then maybe you won't be so homesick anymore."

"Dude, I went past homesick into home _withdrawals_, like, a month ago." He knocked back a fourth of the bottle. "I just want to be able to read every sign and not sound retarded when I talk to a waiter." Arthur snorted. "Seriously, if we didn't already have the whole agenda laid out I'd fly home already."

"Well, you know, you could." Al tilted his head at him; Arthur glanced at him quickly before turning his eyes back to the road. "You have the ways, and you certainly have the means. Besides, it's not like you're really trying with these auditions anymore." When Alfred was silent for a beat too long, Arthur glanced over again to see a deer in the headlights. "What?"

"Shit, you can tell?"

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. "Al, love, you haven't gotten even a bit role since Amsterdam, and you only practice for your auditions when Toris is watching. Honestly, I'd have to be blind _and _deaf not to be able to tell."

"Oh." Alfred took another gulp, eyes lost. "Yeah, I guess this whole thing pretty much burnt me out of acting." Arthur held his silence as Al took another swallow and continued. "I mean, I guess I still _like_ it and stuff, but this trip has made it really sink in that it's my _job_ and... I dunno." Another swallow. "I dunno if I really like it _that_ much."

"So why don't you tell Toris that? Or your parents?"

Alfred made a face. "I've tried to tell Toris a few times, but it never really comes out right, if I can get it out at all."

"But you made it perfectly clear to me."

Al flapped his hand dismissively. "Yeah, well, that's you, you're different. I never have problems talking to you." Arthur smiled. "Anyway, I just know that you've sunk a lot of time and money into this - I mean, I wasn't Toris's only client, and he and Fel can't be making all that much chaperoning us, even with my parent's ridiculous generosity -and, I mean... I know we can totally pay for all this, like, as a family, and probably a few times over, but I'd still feel _awful_ about just bailing halfway through."

"We're more than halfway through by now, I assure you."

Al stuck his tongue out at him. "Quit splittin' hairs, Art."

Arthur laughed as he slowed down to follow the main traffic right towards the concert arena. "I can understand the guilt, I think. I've been here this whole time, basically freeloading off your family for months with barely a few snacks from my own pocket. You think _you_ feel awful." Al chuckled. "But I'm glad I came. I wouldn't undo this trip for the world."

Alfred grinned, a little sly. "Yeah, I guess this trip hasn't been a _total_ waste or anything." He slid his hand over, cold from his now-empty bottle, and laced his fingers through Arthur's hand. Arthur coughed.

"Yes, I guess that's true." He pulled his hand free, slowly, and Al let him, fingers trailing across his palm. "And besides, at least you have some communication skills outside of English with a side of French." Al giggled, and the slow going turned into stop and go as they bottlenecked at the parking lot. They were silent as Arthur found a spot and parked, but he paused after turning off the engine to look over at Alfred in consideration. "You want to stay here?"

Al stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Stay where?"

"Here. In the car." He leant his arm on the steering wheel. "We can sit in here and talk all in English until we're ready to brave this silly concert crowd."

Al blinked at him before a slow smile spread across his face. "That actually sounds awesome. C'mon, let's go to the back for more room." He crawled between their seats as Arthur unbuckled and following, instantly cuddled back against Al's chest. After some awkward dancing around and a few badly-placed elbows, Alfred was sprawled diagonally, Arthur's legs stretched out along the seat and leaning into Al's side. He pulled Alfred's arm tighter around him and held his hand loosely, playing with his fingers.

"I'm definitely glad we got to try this out," Al murmured into his hair. Arthur sighed happily, but the nagging question from the back of his mind bubbled up and came out to spoil the air.

"So... what is _this_, anyway?" Even so, his tone was soft, soothing. "Not that I don't enjoy it either, but." He swallowed. "I guess a little clarity wouldn't do harm."

Al hummed and nodded. "Well. What would you _like_ it to be?"

Arthur sighed and squirmed into a better position against Al. It was so much easier to say this without eye contact. "Well, I don't think I like calling you 'boyfriend'. It feels... odd, and not right." He felt Al nod against his skull. "But we're not just friends anymore, are we?"

Al squeezed him tightly, briefly. "No, not really." His voice was raspy. He cleared his throat quietly, and Arthur laughed.

"You know, for something as simple as we are, it's rather difficult to pin it down to a title." Al chuckled.

"I've told you before, Art. We've got a _special relationship_." Arthur slapped the piece of arm his hand was resting on and snorted.

"God, you're awful,"

"Yup."

They settled into their silence, content in each other's presence.

"We could be lovers?"

"We can't do that." They both grinned.

"_We could be lo-o-overs, and that's a fact!_" Alfred sang softly. Arthur laughed harder.

"I can't believe we both recognize that song so instantly."

Al shifted under him. "Well, guilty pleasures, I suppose."

"Mmm." Arthur closed his eyes. "But no lovers. That's too old."

Alfred laughed. "Whatever you say, man."

Arthur stretched his legs fully out along the seat. "'Friends with benefits' is too tacky, 'dating' is too preteen, and 'couple' is too... blergh." He made a face, and Al snorted.

"You have a way with words, honey."

"Wonder who I get it from." They laughed together, smiled together. "'It's complicated' is just a lie."

"That's true. We're as uncomplicated as it gets." He paused. "Despite what the evidence may say."

"We've started to talk in circles, love." Arthur turned his head slightly to rest his cheek instead of his ear on Al's chest.

Al melted more than sighed. "True again. Well, I'm your love, and you're my honey. End of discussion."

Arthur wrinkled his nose even as his skin waved with tingles. "Why do I get the bee vomit pet name?"

"Ew. Not the bee vomit side of honey! You're sweet and you taste good and you never get old."

"Oh." He ducked his head down to hide his eyes further, "Haven't you learned yet that I'm not sweet?"

"Then what do you call what you're doing right now?"

"...Uh."

"Right. It's being sweet with me in the backseat of our car." Arthur flicked his nail against the back of Al's hand, but didn't try to move away from him and his warmth. "Hey now!"

"Spiced honey, maybe." He pet the flicked spot with two fingers. "Sweet with a bite to it."

"Whatever you say."

They fell silent again, tracing abstracts onto each other's skin lightly. Arthur could feel the seat buckle digging into his hip, and Al kept shifting to try and find a less cramped position in the small back seat, but neither of them cared to move more than a tiny bit and disturb their simple peace.

When the distant sounds of the concert changed style - the opening band had given the stage to the main attraction - Arthur threaded their fingers together. "So, still feel like quitting this whole venture?"

Al shrugged. "Well, sort of, but it doesn't burn so bad anymore." He squeezed Arthur's hand. "Besides, this way I get to spend more time with you." Arthur ducked his head down even further. "But, _theoretically_, if I _was_ going to pick up tail and go... I'd totally go back to Italy first."

"Really? Italy?"

"Yeah, I like Italian, and I like Italians. They're entertaining."

"You're just saying that because you can't walk down a street without one of them making an advance on you."

"Hey, I can't help it if everyone wants me."

Arthur turned into him a little more to hide his grin. "Obviously you're just too bloody attractive for your own good."

"Aw, thanks, sweetie. I love it when you tell me I'm hot."

"Shut up."

Al chuckled. "But seriously, I could be totally cool with holing up in some tiny Italian town for a few years and hiding out." He pressed his mouth against Arthur's forehead. "I'd take you with me, of course."

"What makes you think I'd come with you?"

Al's laugh erupted out of him this time, and Arthur scowled. "Yeah, sure, you're totally not gonna to that, right."

"I repeat and amend, shut the fuck up."

"Not on your life, sugar lump."

"If you don't I'll make you shut up."

"Oh yeah?"

Arthur pushed up to kiss his neck, lightly, briefly. "Yeah."

"Mmm, okay, I can deal with that." He shifted to the side, just enough to lean back against the door. They bumped legs and arms for a moment until they straightened out, Arthur stretched over Alfred with his feet tucked to the side. Al grinned and pecked his mouth. "You still taste good."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Moron." But he melted down into the embrace, sighing into the slow kiss as Al's mouth eased over his.

They were as slow and languid as they ever wanted to be, savoring every millimeter and the skin of heat coating their air. It was cold outside, and the windows had already been threatening fog, so it wasn't far for them to be opaque.

Arthur broke to push aside Al's coat collar to get at his neck, down to the spot he _liked_. His breath choked under Arthur's mouth.

"_Jesus_, Arthur." Arthur smiled and bit without bite.

"I'm not the only one who tastes good, love," he murmured, hands warming under Al's back. Al giggled, groaned, slid down the seat.

Arthur didn't taste his neck long before he was tugged back up to his mouth, insistent and silent. Alfred buried his hands in his hair, scratched at his scalp. They were horizontal, bent up and around each other and uncomfortable, but they didn't care. Arthur's hands were under coat but over shirt, pulling at cloth idly and kneading at muscle.

They broke away.

"Hey there." Al's grin lit up the tiny backseat, and Arthur just shook his head, ducked it down to settle on Al's chest. Al's hands slid slowly down from his hair to settle over his waist.

"I probably would follow you to Italy," Arthur admitted to Al's soft shirt. _I'd probably follow you to the ends of the earth_.

Al hugged him tighter. "And I'd probably follow you wherever you went, too."

They laid together on that backseat, half asleep, talking intermittently about their futures and their possibles, until the concert goers leaving early started to leave the arena. Slowly, ever so slowly, they untangled, stretched outside in the suddenly cold air, and drove back to their hotel.

The next morning, when Toris and Feliks asked how the concert had been, they exchanged a glance, a smile, a shrug. "It was all right, I guess."

* * *

><p>{AN: What better way to try and make this fic less mind-numbingly boring than to go back to my roots of boring rambling conversations? Right?}


	34. Beat It & Try A Little Tenderness

**Beat It**

**February 22, 2009  
><strong>

"Shit, shit, double shit, _fuck-_"

"Fel, Fel, turn the fuck around, please for the love of God-"

"Lucky, whatever happens remember that I love you-"

Feliks rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "You're all a bunch of _babies_. It's just a _bear!_"

His three passengers looked at him in terrified shock. "_Just_ a bear?"

They were driving through an uninhabited stretch of the Belarusian wilderness, Feliks at the wheel, when he took a turn and suddenly there was a brown bear sitting in the middle of the road. He'd slammed on the brakes, naturally, but was wishing he hadn't as the rest of them were jerked awake from their catnapping, saw the bear, and started panicking while the bear itself sat fifty feet away, licking its paws without a care in the world.

Feliks leaned on the steering wheel and watched as he switched paws, trying to ignore the commotion and crisis around him. He wished _he_ didn't have a care in the world. Hell, he'd rather be chilling with the bear right now, which was slowly shifting down to lick its ass, instead of listening to these idiots. Arthur was cursing up a storm in the backseat while he and Al alternated between cowering and looking for things they could defend themselves with when the bear - inevitably - attacked the car, while Toris muttered over the map, sweating a little as he tried to find a different way through Belarus that didn't involve bears. God, Feliks loved him, but sometimes he was just too practical for his own good.

"Y'know, boys, I don't wanna know what would happen if it wasn't me driving right now," he said as he eased off the brake pedal enough to roll forward a few yards (to the outcries of the others), then threw the car in park. The bear looked at them, then back at its ass, unconcerned with the metal machine. Feliks grinned. "Watch and learn, kids!"

He slammed his foot down on the gas, revving the engine as loud and fast as he could. The bear jerked and fell over on his side, rolled to his feet and trundled away into the woods as fast as he could. With a smug smile, Feliks went back into drive and headed on down the road as calmly as before the bear.

The other three were shocked into silence for a good thirty seconds. He sighed. "You know, you can congratulate me on my problem-solving skills whenever you like. Behind him Al laughed, still a little nervously, and clapped him on the shoulder over his seat back.

"Dude, you've got to be the craziest makeup artist I've ever met."

"Thank you. I try."

Arthur hmphed. "Now can we _please _get the fuck out of Belarus?"

* * *

><p><strong>Try A Little Tenderness<strong>

**March** **4, 2009**

Alfred sighed in front of the mirror on the bathroom door of their hotel in Riga, tying his tie for their first nice dinner out in at least a month. Having to wear a tie sucked, true, but it wasn't as near as annoying as Arthur was being right now, jumping around like a chicken with its head cut off. The past few weeks being caught in an endless loop of Eastern European forests and villages hadn't been kind to his nerves, and now the sudden appearance of an actual city was frying him.

"Al, have you seen my shoes anywhere? Damn it, if I left them somewhere behind us I'm gonna kill someone... Fuck, we're going to be late as _hell_, I knew we shouldn't have let Feliks and Toris go ahead of us-"

With a shake of his head that Arthur didn't see, Al abandoned his tie for a moment and spun, intercepting Arthur as he made to dart by him into the bathroom with an arm around his waist, pulling him around to slam against his chest and kiss him hard. Arthur squeaked, struggled, caved, eyes closing and hands that had been clutching his shirt for balance sliding around to grip his neck as he kissed back, melting a little in the circle of Al's arm.

When Al thought he'd calmed down enough, he drew back from the kiss slowly. "Better?"

Arthur just hummed, eyes still closed, and nuzzled into his shoulder. He grinned.

"Your shoes're in the outside pocket of your suitcase, honey." Arthur's eyes popped open, and he pushed away with a valiant attempt to hide his reluctance and dove for the top of his suitcase, starting to babble again. Al just rolled his eyes and went back to his tie.

* * *

><p>{AN: Heh. Hehehe. Heh?

I'm really trying, guys. I want to finish this story. I need to finish it. I'm so close! But I'm running out of will on this final stretch, mostly because it's gotten pretty damn boring. I truly and humbly apologize.

But there's a lot that's happened for me since I last updated this! I've almost finished my internship, where I was drawing and designing for a small mobile app company and mostly goofing on on tumblr while I waited for something to do. I've gotten an AO3 under the username carriecmoney! Which I am slowly updating with my old stuff. I started two new tumblrs that y'all'd be interested in! The first is a fic tumblr, where I have finished putting all of the stuff that's on here and some that isn't. The URL for that is ellarose-c . tumblr . com.

I've also started a Canada askblog at ask-noblebeaver . tumblr . com! If you liked/loved my Canada in this fic or any of my other fics, there's a very high chance you'll love that Canada. So go ask him stuff, I'm running out of things to answer.

If you ever remember me for whatever odd reason and want to know what I've been up to and why I haven't updated anything in forever, you can still go check out my main tumblr at carriecmoney . tumblr . com. I practically live there.

I have somewhere between three and six chapters left of this fic, then it's done, guys. I've got some "Where Are They Now?"s planned and stuff, and there'll be some far future one-shots every now and then, but the main "story", as it stands, will be "done". Thanks for sticking with me for this long, drawn-out adventure, and hopefully I'll update soon!

~ Caroline}


	35. Come Sail Away

**Come Sail Away  
><strong>

**March 13, 2009**

It was threatening to storm as they crossed the Baltic Sea from Estonia to Finland. That didn't stop Alfred from wandering onto the deck of the ferry and leaning on the railing, letting the choppy wind twist through his hair with a strange, flat expression on his face.

Toris watched him from the relative safety of the upper deck cabin. Al had changed a lot since they'd started this trip; he was quieter, less excitable, smiled a little less. He hadn't really gotten _sadder_, but he'd mellowed, and it concerned Toris some. His client wasn't supposed to mellow, it wasn't in his nature or his blood.

He left Feliks talking to Arthur about college and the merits and drawbacks of worthless English degrees as he pushed out the door into the salt wind, walking over to lean next to Al. They didn't say anything, and Al didn't even flicker his eyes, but he knew Al knew he was there.

"Storm's coming," he said eventually, breaking the human silence. Al shrugged.

"Maybe. Ocean storms are weird." He tilted back to look up at the clouds, then all around. "I think it'll pass us by without even a raindrop."

Toris snorted at him. "Since when did you know so much about weather patterns?"

Al grinned. "S'just a feeling." The grin faded, and he went back to staring over the water. Toris's feet settled into the flow of the ferry, watching the dark Baltic water pass by meters below in a hypnotic rhythm.

"Hey, Toris?" He jerked out of his trance at Al's sudden voice, then glanced over to see Al still watching the waves, biting some dead skin off his lip. He waited. Al sighed, chin falling to his chest. "I think I'm done."

Toris blinked at him. "Done with what?"

"Done with traveling, done with suitcases, done with acting, done with... _this,_" he said with a gesture that encompassed all the months back. "I want to go home. Hell, I even want to go to _school_." He laughed a little and put his chin in his hands. "How weird is that?"

"Not very, actually." The shoulder under his touch when he reached out was tension-sprung. "How long have you felt like this, Al?"

Al smiled sheepishly, not a grin. "A while, I guess. I just..." He heaved a sigh, looked away again. "Didn't know how to tell you. You and Mom and Dad have put so much into this, and it really has been great, especially at the beginning! But... I just feel smaller than before, or something. Tired. I'm ready for my house again." He hunched into himself a little, and Toris's hand on his shoulder went to rub his back through his bomber jacket.

Toris thought. Eight months _was_ a long time to be away from anywhere, and even though Al was an experienced actor and had traveled pretty extensively away from home during his short life, he was still only eighteen. Maybe they'd put too much pressure on him, expecting him to work in foreign countries fresh out of high school while still applying and preparing for university in the fall. It was rather a lot to put on one teenaged boy's shoulders. Maybe it would be healthier - for all of them - to cut the trip short.

And anyway, Feliks had been complaining about his limited fashion choices for weeks now.

"Tell you what." Al lifted his head. "Why don't we go inside, talk about it with the other two, and then I'll make a few calls. I'm sure the rest of your auditions won't mind one less contestant, and we can get to the ferry to England faster that way." Al beamed and threw his arms around him, lifting his feet clear of the deck. Toris laughed and patted his back until he was set down.

"You're seriously the best, Toris. Thanks." Toris smiled at him fondly.

"Just don't wait so long to tell me something like that again, okay? I'm your agent, not your slave driver." Al shook his hair in front of his face to hide his sheepish grin. Toris stepped towards the cabin with Arthur and Feliks. "C'mon, let's go talk it out."

* * *

><p>While Al and Toris talked outside, Arthur and Feliks were having their own advice session away from the Baltic Sea wind.<p>

"Honestly, you have more power in your university name that you might know," Feliks said, leaning back against the ferry pleather seat and sprawling out. "People'll respect you when you say Oxford, no matter how good you actually were when you were there, or what you studied." Arthur snorted and dug into his bag of chips absentmindedly.

"I've begun to realize that." He sighed and leaned back to mirror Feliks. "I don't know, Fel. I'm just worried about everything these days." He bent a leg up to his chest and hugged it, frowning out the window. "I want to know if this is where I'm supposed to be."

Feliks shrugged. "Supposed to or not, it's where you are. It'll work itself out, you'll see." He smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "You're a smart kid, sweetie. Someone will see that, I'm sure." Arthur grunted, but didn't let up on his frown. Feliks watched him for a moment, then sighed dramatically and propped his elbow on his knee to lean his chin on his hand. "Look, I went the whole English degree route too, y'know?" Arthur looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he grinned. "I mean, I knew I _had_ to go to college or my fam would, like, _kill_ me, but I didn't know what I wanted to do. It took most of getting that degree to figure out I really wanted to paint instead, and another few years to start painting faces." He smiled, and Arthur snorted in disbelief.

"But you love what you do – I'd always assumed you'd grown up doing your mum's makeup or something."

Feliks laughed and fell back into his earlier sprawl. "You kiddin'? My mom _hates_ wearing makeup, and I have three brothers. I didn't so much as touch makeup until I was out of that house. I mean, they're supportive and they didn't, like, kick me out or anything, but… it took a while for them to get used to all of _this_." He gestured to his appearance, striped V-neck shirt and Parisian scarf included.

"I'm sorry." Feliks shrugged.

"Whatevs, they're over it now and so am I. Of course, finding Toris probably helped that out." He glanced out towards his fiancé, who was busy doing the same sort of consoling to Al. Arthur chuckled, pulling him back.

"Yeah, he's probably every parent's dream son-in-law." They were quiet for a moment; Feliks broke it with a laugh and an easy shove.

"What I'm getting at is don't worry so much, kid. If you were meant to do something, then you were meant to do it. It'll happen, one way or another."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Thanks." He emptied the crumbs of his chips into his mouth. "I just want to make people think, or help them figure out how to think. Or both." He ran his hands through his hair, chip bag falling to his side. "I just don't know _how_."

"One way or another, you'll figure it out. Just don't, like, let what you study decide for you." They smiled at each other, but movement at the cabin door drew their attention to Toris and Al coming back inside. Arthur made eye contact with Al, and the relief there, coupled with Toris's sigh, told him all he needed to know about what the outside conversation had covered.

He would get to go home.

* * *

><p>{AN: Truck truck truckin' along. Also, if y'all haven't seen it, I posted another alternate scene thing for 'Baffled King/Idiot Hero' here. It's called Trydydd Sylfaen, and if you feel like looking up what that means you get a gold star.}


	36. I Am Not American

**I Am Not American**

**March 21, 2009**

**noblebeaversocks: **so how goes your excellent adventure? Gotten arrested for public indecency yet?

**onceandthefuture: **no it's too damn cold for that

**noblebeaversocks: **is your snot freezing to your nose when you step outside?

**onceandthefuture: **that was a month ago

**onceandthefuture: **now we're at the awkward slush part

**onceandthefuture: **where your feet get wet when you think about stepping outside

**onceandthefuture: **life sucks

**noblebeaversocks: **muffinnnnn

**noblebeaversocks: **is al whining the entire time?

**onceandthefuture: **did you just call me muffin

**noblebeaversocks: **because if he is, just remind him about that one time up north

**noblebeaversocks: **would you prefer crumpet?

**onceandthefuture: **both sound like I'm a cat and I take offense at that

**noblebeaversocks: **muffykins?

**onceandthefuture: **now I'm a cat with a lace doily on my head

**onceandthefuture: **stop it

**noblebeaversocks: **hahaha, for now

**noblebeaversocks: **so back to my idiot cousin

**noblebeaversocks: **how's the cold treating him

**onceandthefuture: **not well

**onceandthefuture: **it'd be hilarious if I wasn't being treated the same way

**onceandthefuture: **stupid northern europe weather

**onceandthefuture: **oh but we did find you a present

**noblebeaversocks: **did you now?

**onceandthefuture: **I'll give you a hint

**onceandthefuture: **we're in Finland right now

**noblebeaversocks: **vodka, boring hockey and reindeers?

**onceandthefuture: **the last one is the closest

**noblebeaversocks: **you got me rudolph?

**noblebeaversocks: **or close as in it has hooves and antlers

**onceandthefuture: **the latter

**noblebeaversocks: **damn it, i was stoked on the red nose

**noblebeaversocks: **does it have something to do with the time i took him hunting

**onceandthefuture: **I'm not sure

**onceandthefuture: **please, do tell me more

**noblebeaversocks: **he screamed like a little girl

**noblebeaversocks: **and fell out of the tree stand

**noblebeaversocks: **because there was a spider on his neck

**noblebeaversocks: **which i might've put there

**noblebeaversocks: **maybe

**onceandthefuture: **god I'd pay big money to see that

**onceandthefuture: **how old was he?

**noblebeaversocks: **17

**noblebeaversocks: **he also almost fainted at the blood when i brought it back

**onceandthefuture: **so it's not not-funny because he was too little to know better

**noblebeaversocks: **it was a good weekend

**onceandthefuture: **take me next time

**noblebeaversocks: **bring warm clothes

**noblebeaversocks: **so back to my surprise

**noblebeaversocks: **does it involve moose?

**onceandthefuture: **does it involve moose

**noblebeaversocks**: i take it it does then

**onceandthefuture**: to an almost embarrassing extent

**onceandthefuture**: but al was having so much fun I couldn't bear it in my heart to stop him

**onceandthefuture**: the knife with the moose carved in the handle is very nice though

**onceandthefuture**: if he can get it through security when he leaves

**noblebeaversocks**: sounds cool

**noblebeaversocks**: haha remind him not to keep it in his carry on

**noblebeaversocks**: or maybe don't

**noblebeaversocks**: him getting detained in finland'd be kinda funny

**onceandthefuture**: england

**onceandthefuture**: you don't go through security taking a ferry

**noblebeaversocks**: ahh you're ferrying it back

**onceandthefuture**: yup

**noblebeaversocks**: he milking of your family before going home?

**onceandthefuture**: ferries around the northern seas

**noblebeaversocks**: speaking of which when is he back

**onceandthefuture**: he is very good at the parent sucking up

**noblebeaversocks**: i'm sick of feeding that monster dog of his

**onceandthefuture**: sometime in late April

**onceandthefuture**: like a month from now ish

**onceandthefuture**: and I'm sure she's not that bad

**noblebeaversocks**: he's tired of your liberal views on politics, sex and health care?

**noblebeaversocks**: and she's evil

**noblebeaversocks**: pure concentrated evil

**onceandthefuture**: we're all tired of travelling

**noblebeaversocks**: that someone forgot to mix with 3 cans of water before serving

**noblebeaversocks**: too many nights pent up in the same hotel room?

**onceandthefuture**: god

**noblebeaversocks**: please tell me you got mad at him at least once

**noblebeaversocks**: and punched him

**noblebeaversocks**: he deserves it

**onceandthefuture**: most of our fights rarely get to blows

**onceandthefuture**: that broken wrist is still sensitive though

**onceandthefuture**: just fyi

**noblebeaversocks**: yeah but that was from a girlllll

**noblebeaversocks**: and al hits weaker than a girl

**onceandthefuture**: you just think that because you're his size

**onceandthefuture**: he's not really a lightweight

**noblebeaversocks**: nah its because he's a girl

**onceandthefuture**: I think I can attest to that being false

**noblebeaversocks**: oh can you now

**onceandthefuture**: I have shared a hotel room with him close to a year now

**noblebeaversocks**: i've been on enough hockey tournaments to know how that ends

**noblebeaversocks**: so is my cous all talk and no action?

**onceandthefuture**: mostly talk

**onceandthefuture**: you have to get him past that to find the action

**noblebeaversocks**: no easy nights eg/

**noblebeaversocks**: eh?*

**onceandthefuture**: not anymore

**noblebeaversocks**: anymore?

**onceandthefuture**: like I said

**onceandthefuture**: it takes a while to get past the talk

**noblebeaversocks**: oooh have you moved it out of the bedroom at night?

**onceandthefuture**: you lost me boy

**noblebeaversocks**: i may have not slept for far too long

**noblebeaversocks**: sometimes i wonder what i'm trying to say

**noblebeaversocks**: then i decide it's not worth the effort

**onceandthefuture**: man after my own heart

**noblebeaversocks**: so got any good stories from your recent adventures?

**onceandthefuture**: hmmm

**onceandthefuture**: well at one point we did accidentally set a windmill on fire

**noblebeaversocks**: y...how what that's awesome

**noblebeaversocks**: tell more

**onceandthefuture**: hehehe

**onceandthefuture**: it was right after you and gil left

**onceandthefuture**: when we were crossing northern europe

**onceandthefuture**: and we went out exploring one night and there was an abandoned windmill off the road a little way

**onceandthefuture**: and we were bored so we wandered over there

**onceandthefuture**: and it was dark and moldy and gross inside

**onceandthefuture**: and there was some hay

**onceandthefuture**: and I keep a lighter on me at all times

**onceandthefuture**: and

**onceandthefuture**: well we did call the fire department anonymously before we booked it

**noblebeaversocks**: oh lord

**noblebeaversocks**: so much win

**noblebeaversocks**: and so much bad

**onceandthefuture**: we persuaded toris to leave town a different way the next day

**onceandthefuture**: they don't know and you're not allowed to tell them

**onceandthefuture**: btw

**onceandthefuture**: or al's parents

**noblebeaversocks**: or any lawful authorities

**onceandthefuture**: exactly

**onceandthefuture**: I'm pretty sure burning down a building is a felony in any language

**noblebeaversocks**: they have a nice fun word for it in english - arson

**noblebeaversocks**: now all you need is the murder and jaywalking

**onceandthefuture**: oh we have the jaywalking in buckets

**noblebeaversocks**: and the murder?

**onceandthefuture**: still working on that

**onceandthefuture**: although Al got close to animal murder somewhere in Germany with a bike and a Maltese

**onceandthefuture**: instead he just dented his rented bike on a lamppost

**noblebeaversocks**: no broken bones?

**onceandthefuture**: just broken pride

**noblebeaversocks**: good, it'll deflate that ego of his a little

**onceandthefuture**: there was a good amount of ego deflating on this trip

**onceandthefuture**: like when we went horseback riding in poland

**onceandthefuture**: and I'm sure you're aware that he rides

**onceandthefuture**: but it was an English saddle place

**noblebeaversocks**: and he was showing off like usual?

**onceandthefuture**: naturally

**onceandthefuture**: he exists to show off

**noblebeaversocks**: true that

**noblebeaversocks**: did he fall off over the head or the rear?

**onceandthefuture**: even more ignoble

**onceandthefuture**: the side

**noblebeaversocks**: ahahhaha

**onceandthefuture**: he just slipped right off

**noblebeaversocks**: please never let him live that down

**onceandthefuture**: of course not

**onceandthefuture**: and since my parents were rich toffs I was in a saddle from birth

**onceandthefuture**: it was one of my crowning moments to be able to ride circles around him moaning on the ground without using reins

**onceandthefuture**: I'll never forget it

**noblebeaversocks**: as it should be

**noblebeaversocks**: meet anyone interesting/

**onceandthefuture**: several

**onceandthefuture**: the majority of whom were related to toris

**onceandthefuture**: you know toris right

**noblebeaversocks**: we talked when you and al were sleeping off a hangover in amsterdam

**onceandthefuture**: I'll worry more about that later

**onceandthefuture**: anyway so you know how he's a nervous wreck of a worrywart

**noblebeaversocks:** yeahhh

**onceandthefuture:** well there's a reason for that

**onceandthefuture**: his family is utterly bonkers

**noblebeaversocks**: seriously?

**onceandthefuture**: being thrown into a family gathering feels rather like being thrown into a circus while they're collapsing the tent

**onceandthefuture**: but all the performers are still there

**noblebeaversocks**: i bet

**noblebeaversocks**: does he have siblings?

**onceandthefuture**: strangely no

**onceandthefuture**: it's all extended family

**onceandthefuture**: probably explains a lot about how he turned out

**noblebeaversocks**: i don't doub it

**onceandthefuture**: he's got more aunts than fingers

**noblebeaversocks**: and cousins?

**onceandthefuture**: aunts time five

**onceandthefuture**: he's the only only child from the whole bunch

**noblebeaversocks**: damn...

**onceandthefuture**: everyone else is very... well normally I'd say Catholic

**onceandthefuture**: but they're orthodox

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahahah

**onceandthefuture**: Irish

**onceandthefuture**: whatever

**noblebeaversocks**: lots of family dinners

**onceandthefuture**: oh lord

**onceandthefuture**: family dinners feel like land battles with troops and plunging horses and churned mud and all the bad things about battles with none of the glroy

**noblebeaversocks**: and you didn't have a white flag?

**onceandthefuture**: no such thing

**onceandthefuture**: surrender is not an option

**onceandthefuture**: either you eat or get eaten

**noblebeaversocks**: hahah the fight to the death

**noblebeaversocks**: I hope you went for their eyes

**onceandthefuture**: only the children's eyes

**onceandthefuture**: they're bigger

**onceandthefuture**: more full of hope

**onceandthefuture**: taste better

**noblebeaversocks**: they swarmed you didn't they

**onceandthefuture**: like cats to not-cat people

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahaha

**onceandthefuture**: little demons

**noblebeaversocks**: and al probably had his own swarm eh/

**noblebeaversocks**: couldn't rescue you?

**onceandthefuture**: of course

**onceandthefuture**: for entirely different reasons

**onceandthefuture**: children like me because i hate them

**onceandthefuture**: children like al because he loves them

**onceandthefuture**: bastard

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahaha

**onceandthefuture**: occasionally one of the aunts would step in to save me

**onceandthefuture**: but it never lasted long

**onceandthefuture**: but it was nice being with a family for a while

**onceandthefuture**: they all live in the same area so you can never get away from them for long

**onceandthefuture**: but it was almost bizarre to see toris loosen up with people besides feliks

**noblebeaversocks**: yeah i'm having a hard time picturing it

**onceandthefuture**: strange but true

**onceandthefuture**: they took feliks's... feliks pretty well

**onceandthefuture**: for an eastern european clan

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahahahaha

**noblebeaversocks**: no more attempts to set toris up with that nice girl down the street

**noblebeaversocks**: apparently she was 200 pounds and looks like a cow

**noblebeaversocks**: but "single"

**noblebeaversocks**: he told me he was afraid of her when we talked

**onceandthefuture**: hahahahahahaahahaha

**onceandthefuture**: no there were no potential fiances shoved in his face

**onceandthefuture**: probably because one of the first things feliks did when we switched cultures was switch the hand his ring was on

**onceandthefuture**: since they do the right-hand thing

**onceandthefuture**: and

**onceandthefuture**: he's good at making people understand who it's from

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahahahaha

**onceandthefuture**: he's territorial as hell

**onceandthefuture**: I fear for anyone who would try to get in his way of anything

**noblebeaversocks**: like al when some one threatened me as a kid

**noblebeaversocks**: he always forgot i was the better fighter

**noblebeaversocks**: it was cute

**onceandthefuture**: it's fuckin adorable

**noblebeaversocks**: i thought so

**noblebeaversocks**: though sometimes i had to come in and rescue him

**onceandthefuture**: heheheh

**onceandthefuture**: did you do all your training wrestling bears and whatnot

**noblebeaversocks**: only against the finest of grizzlies and polar bears

**onceandthefuture**: no match for you of course

**noblebeaversocks**: sometimes they tried to attack in groups of three

**noblebeaversocks**: i still won

**onceandthefuture**: no witnesses of course

**onceandthefuture**: speaking of bears

**onceandthefuture**: we almost literally ran into one in belarus

**noblebeaversocks**: do tell

**onceandthefuture**: come around a curve in the middle of the woods and there he is, just sitting in the middle of the road, licking his ass

**noblebeaversocks**: did he seize al up for a meal?

**onceandthefuture**: al was too busy trying to find a bulnt instrument in the car

**onceandthefuture**: the bear didn't pay us any attention

**onceandthefuture**: feliks scared it away with the car

**onceandthefuture**: damned man's a maniac behind the wheel

**noblebeaversocks**: while toris clings to the armrest in a suicide grip?

**onceandthefuture**: precisely

**onceandthefuture**: to be fair I might have been panicking as well

**noblebeaversocks**: must've been one grumpy old bear

**onceandthefuture**: I didn't pay attention enough to determine age

**noblebeaversocks**: so you had an encounter with a bear, a maltese, and a horse

**noblebeaversocks**: and you survived them all unscathed

**onceandthefuture**: through the miracle of life

**noblebeaversocks**: i'm surprised - i expected my cousin to have ended up in the emergency room at least once this trip

**onceandthefuture**: and several thousand pigeons and assorted city wildlife

**onceandthefuture**: well he did go to get that wrist bandaged in italy

**noblebeaversocks**: and no heads got crapped on?

**onceandthefuture**: just cars

**onceandthefuture**: well

**onceandthefuture**: pigeons can do more damage that with birdshit

**noblebeaversocks**: i sense a story here

**onceandthefuture**: your senses would be correct

**onceandthefuture**: madrid

**onceandthefuture**: early in the trip

**onceandthefuture**: crowded city square

**onceandthefuture**: several hundred pigeons

**onceandthefuture**: two tourists

**onceandthefuture**: and one fountain

**noblebeaversocks**: oh nooooo

**onceandthefuture**: let's just say I didn't talk to him for like

**onceandthefuture**: ... a day

**onceandthefuture**: he dragged me in

**onceandthefuture**: claimed he was 'trying to keep his balance'

**onceandthefuture**: bullshit

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahahahaa

**noblebeaversocks**: and i bet he didn't let you find dry shoes afterwards

**onceandthefuture**: no, there was a cheap vendor in the square that sold crappy clothes

**onceandthefuture**: including sandals

**onceandthefuture**: although of course he charged twice as much seeing as we were dripping wet when we approached him

**onceandthefuture**: he should've give nthem to us for free

**onceandthefuture**: I'm sure the show we unintentionally put on drew business

**noblebeaversocks**: hahaha glad you did your good deed for the street vendors of spain

**onceandthefuture**: to my eternal displeasure

**onceandthefuture**: those were my favorite jeans

**onceandthefuture**: ruined

**noblebeaversocks**: muffinnnn

**noblebeaversocks**: speaking of good deeds

**onceandthefuture**: why am I foodstuffs

**noblebeaversocks**: because its adorable

**noblebeaversocks**: anyway, i was going to harass al

**onceandthefuture**: he's asleep

**noblebeaversocks**: but since i'll get to do that in month

**noblebeaversocks**: i figured, otherwise he'd have done something obnoxious by now

**onceandthefuture**: asleep on me

**noblebeaversocks**: awwwwww

**onceandthefuture**: because even when unconscious he finds ways to annoy me

**onceandthefuture**: he's bloody heavy

**noblebeaversocks**: hahahaha

**noblebeaversocks**: its all those cheeseburgers

**onceandthefuture**: mooseburgers

**onceandthefuture**: they sell those

**onceandthefuture**: they actually exist

**noblebeaversocks**: i bet they're not as good as mine

**onceandthefuture**: one day you'll have to prove that to me

**noblebeaversocks**: oh i will

**noblebeaversocks**: might have to make some moose chili for you too

**onceandthefuture**: oh lord

**noblebeaversocks**: thought you'd approve

**onceandthefuture**: so al's hunch about the moose jerky was correct I see

**noblebeaversocks**: i love you too

**noblebeaversocks**: two*

**onceandthefuture**: you're welcome

**noblebeaversocks**: tell al I said that

**onceandthefuture**: I will

**noblebeaversocks**: then call him a jerkface

**onceandthefuture**: bahahah

**onceandthefuture**: duly noted

**noblebeaversocks**: excellent

**noblebeaversocks**: anyway, as much as i'd love to harras you guys some more

**noblebeaversocks**: i have a date with kuma and a large chunk of moose

**onceandthefuture**: can't delay that

**noblebeaversocks**: nah, otherwise he might try and eat one of his keepers

**noblebeaversocks**: and then there's all sorts of nasty paperwork

**onceandthefuture**: I thought they kept them too well fed for that

**noblebeaversocks**: he lulls them into a false sense of security

**onceandthefuture**: now I understand why you empathize with a giant spirit bear so well

**noblebeaversocks**: you have no idea

**noblebeaversocks**: he devoured my spirit wolf

**onceandthefuture**: ... I won't even aks

**onceandthefuture**: ask

**noblebeaversocks**: you probably shouldn't

**noblebeaversocks**: it was after three days of fasting

**noblebeaversocks**: and a lot of time in the sweat lodge

**noblebeaversocks**: the details are kinda fuzzy

**onceandthefuture**: is this a literal or metaphorical devouring

**noblebeaversocks**: like i said

**noblebeaversocks**: the details are pretty fuzzy

**onceandthefuture**: oh you poor child

**onceandthefuture**: whatever will I do with you

**noblebeaversocks**: use me to keep your american on a tight leash

**onceandthefuture**: right

**noblebeaversocks**: *beams*

**onceandthefuture**: you do have your uses in that regard

**noblebeaversocks**: just don't let him hurt himself in these last weeks

**noblebeaversocks**: he's going to get into enough trouble back home

**onceandthefuture**: you know al

**onceandthefuture**: trouble finds him

**noblebeaversocks**: and sometimes his friends help it towards him

**noblebeaversocks**: ahh well, have fun with my cousin

**onceandthefuture**: I do

**onceandthefuture**: I will

**noblebeaversocks**: i'm too tired to touch that one

**noblebeaversocks**: at the moment

**noblebeaversocks**: ...

**onceandthefuture**: ...

**onceandthefuture**: good

**noblebeaversocks**: hehehe

**onceandthefuture**: right

**onceandthefuture**: well

**noblebeaversocks**: i'll feed kuma a slab of meat for you

**onceandthefuture**: ... thank you

**onceandthefuture**: I think

**noblebeaversocks**: hahaha

**noblebeaversocks**: cya art

**onceandthefuture**: bye matt

* * *

><p>{AN: IT'S DONE! IT'S FINALLY DONE! Well, this isn't it, but there are two more chapters after this that are already written and then IT' E! *throws confetti*

Anyway, this is the last appearance Canada and my Canadian will make. She's been the best, because even though she's not been into Hetalia except through me for years, she still puts up with me talking about it constantly and helps me write this. Really, this entire universe is a big testament to our friendship and the last almost-three years of it. There are some milestones in our lives buried in here, and the characters all have pieces of us and our relationship in them.

So this is my sappy dedication of BKIH and WTR to her. Bow down in praise and thanksgiving to Sami, the expert Canadian.}


	37. Water (Live)

**Water (Live) - Hall!AU**

**April 21, 2009**

The last day Al had in Europe, he and Arthur spent entirely together.

Feliks and Toris had flown back to the States already, ready to get back to their Los Angeles lives. Al was following a week later, getting a chance to say goodbye and get himself in gear for throwing himself into preparation for starting his first semester in the University of Arizona's astronomy program; Arthur's Trinity term started soon after Al left. It was almost jarring to return to the normal functionings of society after driving by them for so long. It took getting used to.

Arthur's aunt and uncle fixed Arthur's favorites that night for dinner - for, among all the other things that day was, it was Arthur's birthday - after hours of the two of them wandering Oxford and talking like it was their last chance. They packed up his uncle's art store van for the trip to Heathrow in the morning. Peter snatched at Al's attention for a while, but Arthur snapped at him until his mother tucked him off the bed.

Al and Arthur waited until the rest of the house was quiet, mindlessly watching the late night programming, before slipping off to the guest room for their own, private goodbye.

The door clicked shut behind Arthur, soft and silent. Al stood in front of him, close enough that Arthur could see his bare feet as he stared at the carpet.

"Hey." Al took his face in his hands and lifted it to look in his eyes, and Arthur was struck by how much he'd _grown _while he'd known him. At some point he'd lost his boyhood. He wondered if he'd changed as much, too.

He wondered if Al could tell.

Al grinned at him, and he smiled back, hands rising to hold Al's waist. "You fool."

Al shrugged and pulled him up by his hold for the first kiss of the night.

Tonight was hard and searching, quiet gasps and open exploration. They fell on the double bed, Al over Arthur and kissing fiercer than he ever had before. Arthur sucked in a breath when he went to his neck, nails in Al's back and trousers sliding as he tried to keep up with him.

"Calm down, love." Al rested his temple against his cheek, breath misting on his neck.

"How can you _say_ that?" His arms curled under his back. "I don't know if I'll ever _see _you again." His voice caught, and Arthur wove his fingers through his hair.

"Course, of _course_ you will." He slid his cheek down the side of Al's face. "I'm not sure I could live without you."

Al lifted his head, held at nose length. His eyes weren't blue anymore, just eyes. "Yeah."

He crushed down into a long kiss, tongue deep and pressure all over Arthur. They were breathless when they emerged, too close to pull at clothing but pleasant. Arthur smiled up at him, loose in a way he was unaccustomed to. Al gulped, laughed breathlessly, looked at the pillow behind his head.

"This has never happened to me before," he mumbled, almost to himself. Arthur tilted his head slightly.

"What is it?" Al laughed again and pushed up on his elbows, shaking his hair over his eyes. He needed a haircut.

"Nothing, it's just..." he tugged at Arthur's collar lightly with the tips of his fingers. "My brain's taken a mind of its own."

Arthur pushed at him until he sat up so he could pull off his shirt. "Clarity, love."

"It's writing you a poem."

Arthur paused with his shirt half over his head. "I beg your pardon?"

Al's laugh echoed, his hands helped him finish taking off his shirt. "Yeah, weird." He tugged Arthur into his legs-sprawled lap, eyes on his bare skin. "But it won't stop." Fascination, curiosity. Arthur slipped off Al's shirt in a practiced move.

"Is it awful?"

Al shook his head slowly. "At least, I don't think so."

Arthur crossed his wrists loosely behind Al's head. "Then you should tell me about it." Al's slow gaze made Arthur shudder. He lifted one hand from where it was resting in the band of Arthur's pants to hold one of Arthur's forearms, lift it around to press his lips against the inside of his wrist.

"I am addicted to your bones." He bit loosely on the pad of his thumb. Arthur's eyes tracked his mouth down his inside tendon. "The pulls and slides of your muscle in your skin." The hand holding his arm followed up to link fingers. "The serpentine swing of your palm against mine." It let go, slam of a pull in and up, sudden chest-to-chest and that mouth on neck. Arthur automatically held it close. "And you _are_ mine, flashing eternal, this tea taste-" lick up the jaw- "and bitter eyes-" soft press to his fluttering eyelids, one, two- "and rabbit down." Kiss to the hair. Arthur breathed deep, kept his eyes closed as he was laid back against his pillows, phantom fingers trailing down his stomach to his trouser button.

Presence at his shoulder as the hands exposed further. "I'm telling you this now to memorize you." The whispers ghosted down as the cagings on his legs fell away. "To memorize the way I sputter and rearrange with you in my room." He was laid bare, cracked his eyes to find and reach for Al, who looked lost and confused and amazed.

Al let himself be drawn into his kiss, his necessary kiss. At some point he'd unbuttoned his own pants, not completely off but enough. The jolt of texture made Arthur gasp and Al bit the other lip. Arthur's wild hands gripped his lower back, arched in to thicken the cloud in his head, locked their ankles together.

"I'll remember later," he mouthed against Arthur's, voice barely sounding, "but this is mine for you." He followed the rhythm set, mind erasing for a moment in this intoxication of Arthur, twisted across a second-grade mattress in a dark room. They slid haphazardly together; Al reached in to grip them both. Arthur shuddered, kissed him harder. Al allowed it, arching with the natural human flow as he stroked both of them as best he could, propped up on his free elbow over Arthur with his hand coming through the other's hair. Arthur's hand slid down to curl over Al's, and Arthur threw his head back to gasp at the added pressure, breaking the kiss and baring his neck. Al kissed the hollow below his ear. A hitch of breath, and he picked back up in his poem.

"So sew this into your almond skin and know," he said between tracing a line with his tongue down his neck towards his heart, then small horizontal dashes up - stitches over a seam. Arthur clenched his teeth.

Al ended back with lips on ear, cheek on cheek, hand working furiously. They were close. "Because you're _mine_, and I'm-"

Arthur choked on some emotion and pulled Al's head to kiss him as he came, moisture gathering at his closed eyelids as Al fell off his elbowed support and joined him, mouth open and panting over his.

It took a long time to recover, for the glow to fade and the sweat to cool. They held each other through it, close. Eventually, though, Arthur needed to breathe more, so he shoved at Al until he rolled to the side with a groan, then straightened them out on the bed so they had heads on pillows, although not yet under the sheets. Arthur latched onto his side, leg over leg and arm over chest, and sighed in content.

"Did you like it?" Al asked quietly, arm weaseling around Arthur's shoulders. He smiled.

"It was probably a mite plagiarizing at some parts, and there wasn't much by way of a rhyme scheme," he told Al's chest. "But I loved it."

"Good. Awesome." He held Arthur closer so Arthur was half on top of him. "Keep it."

"Yes."

Slowly they moved under the covers, keeping contact and letting the nice buzz of sex fill them up while ignoring the stick. Al curled into Arthur's side this time, nuzzling into his neck.

"I'm gonna miss you like a heartache." Arthur shushed him calmly, quietly.

"Don't fret, it won't be forever."

"Better not." He clutched him close, back into that perfect fit Arthur adored. "I'd die without you."

Arthur snorted through the clench in his chest. "Now that's a little extreme, love." Al shook his head behind him.

"Nuh-uh. You're..." A pause as his sex-addled mind searched for the perfect simile. "You're like water to me."

Arthur made a face and slapped the hands crossed over his chest lightly. "Stop exaggerating."

"Nope. Not exaggerating." He kissed the back of his neck. "A few days without you and I'd die."

Arthur's throat closed up, and he turned his head into the pillow to let the sheets catch his corner tears. Thankfully, Al left it at that, breath evening out into sleep as Arthur struggled to keep himself composed. When Al sighed unconsciously and pulled him a fraction closer, he gave up and let the tears drop as they pleased, weaving his fingers into Al's and trying to memorize how it all felt, still trying when he fell asleep at last.

* * *

><p>{AN: _Next to last one_}


	38. Wicked Twisted Road (Reprise)

**Wicked Twisted Road (Reprise)**

**April 22, 2009**

"Huh."

Two blond teenagers stand next to each other in front of the security line at London Heathrow Airport. The taller-by-a-head one checks his boarding pass, then looks up at the departure screens again. "I guess we got here a little early."

The shorter one snorts. "And once again you demonstrate a talent for understatement." He turns away and heads towards an empty couch farther down the endless room of ticket counters and rope barriers; the taller one rushes to follow.

They settle down next to each other, the taller one's carry on suitcase and backpack tucked under their feet. He rests his wrists on the back of the couch in a male sprawl, just enough that the side of his hand touches the other's shoulder.

They talk. The conversation starts simple, but explodes as aimless conversations do. The hand stays against the shoulder. During a particularly long monologue on the making of espresso, the shorter sprawls as well so their knees brush. They keep that contact, too.

An hour passes like this, stars of touch and soft voices. They each constantly check the time through the hour, knots in their insides. The touches become presses; five minutes.

"I have to go, don't I." The taller doesn't move, but he's stiff with nerves.

"I suppose," the shorter sighs. They stand and face each other. The taller bites his lip before swopping in and squeezing him in more than a bear hug.

"I don't _have _to go, not really," he whispers fervidly into his shoulder. The other pats his back slightly awkwardly.

"Oh, Al." He ducks his face into the crook of his neck to lay a kiss there that the airport crowd can't see. "Yes you do."

Al lets him go abruptly and backs away, grabbing his things and slinging them onto his person. "Yeah." His voice rasps over the single word, and he crosses the room to the international flight security line. The shorter trails behind him, drawn close for those last few seconds.

Al stops just beside the line and turns. "Arthur?" He gulps.

The inevitable is making him irritable. "What?"

Al snorts at the snap and grins. "Aw, c'mere, you." He holds his arms open, and Arthur rolls his eyes before letting himself be folded away one last time, Al's face pressed to his hair. His lips move, and it's just loud enough for Arthur to catch; his shoulders hitch and he pulls away, nodding curtly twice. Al beams.

"Well, see ya later!" He ducks around to the shifted end of the line, dragging fingertips up Arthur's bared forearm on the way.

Arthur shoots up straight as an arrow, and Al laughs and lets himself be yelled at until he's too far in the line for convenient speech.

He turns, once, to see Arthur watching him with a peculiar glint.

His mouth twitches in a smile; Arthur's hand twitches in a wave.

And then he's gone, and all Arthur can do is shake his hair in front of his eyes as he beelines out the doors to the empty van in the parking lot.

* * *

><p>{AN: Heh

heheheh hehe heh

heheheheheheh ehehah hAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE

I AM DONE}


	39. Where Are They Now

{A/N: Did you poor saps really think I was gonna leave you like that? Okay, well, I would, but that's beside the point. What IS the point is that I have completed my plot. There is nothing more interesting on a grand scheme to tell, if there was anyway. However, I have sunk nearly three _years _of my life into this universe, and my Rule #1 of Storytelling is Always Know More Than You're Gonna Tell The Audience, so I've got a lot of things that didn't make it into the narrative that are still good. I may be writing far future one-shots here and there about this cast - there are a few already written because I'm a terrible person - but, Gods willing, there will not be a "Baffled King/Idiot Hero" part 3. Until then, here are the life stories of some of the major - and minor - players in this little ditty. (If there was someone I didn't cover somehow and you're just DYING to know what happened to them, hit me up and I'll do what I can to explain.)

It's been a fun ride, through the ups and downs of my personal life and my life as a writer, and for those of you who've stuck with me, peace be upon you and your kin. For those of you just getting around to reading this after I finished, goooood chooooooice.

Thing to note: If you don't want spoilers for any future tinkering I may be doing in this, I suggest you not read ahead.}

* * *

><p><strong>Matthew Williams<strong>

Matthew went on to become a pro hockey player, and the high point of his career was scoring a goal in the gold medal game of the 2014 Winter Olympics (not the game-winning goal, though). He kept up his friendship with Gilbert until the other's death, and developed a younger sibling relationship with Francis after their first meeting. He married three times – the first to a Manitoba waitress, Anna Robins, at twenty one, with whom he had a son named Caleb. When Caleb was about seven years old, they had a congenial divorce, and gave their son the choice of parents to stay with. He chose his mother, although Matthew was still very present in his life. After their divorce, Matthew went back to his drifter tendencies until he met his second wife, a Dutch-Canadian immigrant named Marissa Hutch, who he married quickly. She left him just as quickly, though, leaving him heartbroken. While he was still moping, Francis introduced him to his third and final wife, a French model named Sophia LeBlanc that was in his own wife's circle of colleagues. They got married and, after her career was over, settled down in Quebec, where they had three kids, the oldest a girl named Madeleine, and then twins Luke and Charles. He loves all his children, of course, but Madeleine looks like him except for her mother's eyes, and he was a goner from the day she was born. Hockey is his whole life – after the pros, he becomes a hockey coach, pulling at least two _Mighty Ducks_ scenarios over the years. All four of his children at least try hockey, although Caleb and Madeleine are the only ones that stick with it further than recreational league (Madeleine as a goalie, Caleb as a wing).

He ages very well, hitting his high point of attractive in his twenties and thirties, although he always has the hair, which is something like a trademark. Many hockey fans know him as 'that Canadian with the hippie hair'. He doesn't go to college, playing hockey through those years. He develops a fondness for plaid and stubble. He despises the feel of contacts and is never seen without his glasses or his prescription goggles for sport.

**Gilbert Beilschmidt**

Gil's acting career lasts a little longer than Al's, playing a few assistant-villain types in explosive action movies before the Vargas brothers, who became indie filmmakers, asked for his help in making a simple score for one of their ventures. He decides he likes writing music for movies and shoves his way into the industry, using the Vargas's as his sled and making quite a name for himself. He never gets married, although he does officially become stepbrothers with Antonio when their mothers elope right before Prop 8 is passed. He and Antonio meet Francis at a Christmas party hosted by Alfred and Arthur one year, and although the three of them live in very different ends of the world, they form a strong circle of friendship and tomfoolery that serves to make Arthur's head ache whenever they are near.

He and Al get over themselves and realize the reason why they always hated each other as kids was because they were the exact same person, and occasionally met up halfway in Vegas for a few nights of disturbing the peace with just the two of them.

Unfortunately, he develops skin cancer a few times, partially/mostly because of his albinism. After the third relapse in his mid-thirties, he decides to throw everything to the wind and lives as daring as he can get, living out a bucket list of the ages until it finally kills him at forty two from a scuba diving accident with dangerous fish in Indonesia. His death shakes Antonio and Francis something fierce, although Matt, who was Gil's confidant for all of his life and even joined him on some of his tamer adventures, saw it coming for years and wasn't really surprised. It also affects Charlie, Matt's more rambunctious twin, to whom Uncle Gil had been his favorite old person.

His appearance barely changes, although when the skin cancer days come about, he does look sicklier than normal. His albinism does cover up a lot of that by just making him look naturally sickly, although his eyesight does go to shit, another common side effect of his mutation, and he has to wear glasses by the time he's twenty three.

**Francis Bonnefoy**

After Francis's parents die and leave him their fortune as he is an only child, he decides that he's tired of loafing around and invests his surplus of money in something worthwhile – like nuclear power. Since he is a lot smarter than he pretends to be, he researches what he's putting his money into, eventually taking courses in it, which eventually evolves into writing a master's thesis and a doctorate in nuclear physics. He teaches a course in it a semester at the university he studied at, just to have something to do with it, and becomes heavily involved in the French nuclear community. He definitely has a few affairs with his grad students, although he staunchly turns down advances from/refuses to think about having sex with undergrads. He has standards, after all. He does eventually meet Matthew and takes his under his wing, giving relationship advice and, as mentioned before, introducing him to a very nice, pretty girl that his wife hints at would be perfect for Matthew.

He does eventually marry, and surprisingly only once to a plus-sized model named Adrienne, a quarter Spanish Muslim from the southern regions of France. She knows very little English, but still manages to develop a platonic affection for Arthur, going so far as to help him in their neverending prank war. They're a little bit of a swinger couple, to the point that side affairs don't tear up their relationship, but not enough that they drag others into their bedroom together. She's the Big Sister in her life to Francis's Big Brother.

He ages beautifully, of course.

**Ivan Braginski**

Ivan's own hockey career dies rather quickly, although not from lack of skill. For the time he's in the NHL, he and Matt develop a small rivalry, but before he can really take off, his father, who had always been suspected of shady dealings, dies under curious circumstances. Ivan retires and takes his place, moving to Moscow and stepping into the position of oil oligarch at a young age, dabbling in the academic study of astronomy on the side. He and Alfred retain their rivalry, not physically (much), but academically, going out of their way to write articles and papers that prove the other's findings wrong just to prove they can. He marries a ballerina from Petersburg, and always has impeccable taste in clothes.

**Monique Grimaldi**

Monique marries a Sicilian mobster she meets on a trip back to Monaco to visit her parents and moves with him to Sicily and runs a gambling ring from their house. Although she drops the hairdressing front completely, she does have a side room renovated into a small salon, where every Friday morning the other mob wives come over to get their hair done and chat, and every Saturday evening she schools the men in poker. The only people who can beat her are her husband and her parents, who taught her everything she knows. She and Alfred still keep in touch with occasional phone calls.

**Kiku Honda**

After Kiku finishes Oxford, he moves back to Japan, where he goes into the corporate side of computing. He always stays vaguely in touch with Arthur, but their relationship picks back up on one of Al and Arthur's world tours, where they stop in Japan and borrow his guest room for a week or so. After that the three of them are as close as they can get, going so far as for Kiku to personally build their computers. Although he's corporate, he'd always tinkered in circuitry as a hobby, and he's very good at it, so he builds his friends' computers in his spare time to keep himself from going insane. He has no children, although he marries a school teacher from Taiwan (yes, it's Mei). Eventually, his chain of promotions ends at being the VP in charge of the Middle Eastern section of his company, where his correspondent on location is Sadiq.

**Natalia Braginskaya**

Natalia becomes a detective in Vancouver, using her suspected mafia connections vaguely for good, in a backwards way. While Ivan is in the NHL, she goes to every one of his games. She also hates his wife on principle. She has a lot of boyfriends that never really last long, and dresses just as nicely as the rest of her family.

**Mathias Densen**

Mathias graduates from Oxford while Arthur's on his vacation and goes to work in the Danish navy as a mathematician, having successfully won over his Norwegian. He and Arthur email each other around Christmas. Sometimes.

**Magdalena Gaspar**

Unlike Alfred, Magdalena stays in the acting business for most of her life. She does keep in contact with the boys after Al is called back for a second cameo on the French show, and is a beta reader for all of Arthur's books, even going so far as to translate his most popular series into Portuguese. If Al wasn't in the picture they'd probably be more serious to the point of marriage – a fact which Al is all too aware of. As it is, during one of her visits to them she gets them drunk and convinces them that a threesome would be the best way to work this all out. They only do it once, but it opens doors to future shared bed partners of the two, and it erases the animosity Al had always tried to suppress towards her.

**Feliks Łukasiewicz/Toris Lorinaitis**

Feliks and Toris settle back into their old lives pretty easily after the Eurotrip. Although Al pretty much drops acting and doesn't need Toris as a manager anymore, they still stay close, as Toris has filled an older brother/mentor spot in his life that had been empty. The same roles are true for Arthur and Feliks, although Feliks likes to call and chat for hours at a time. (After the first month, Arthur talks him into Skype.)

They decide to wait to marry until it's legal in their home state again. When it happens, they have a giant blowout of a wedding, since they've been saving up for years and have a huge budget to play with. It's almost worth it. As far as careers, Feliks stays active in the filmmaking industry, doing makeup for all-size productions and mild stunt work (mostly car-related stuff) for smaller ones. Toris migrates into the music manager business with the backing of Mr. Jones and is mildly successful. They occasionally accompany Arthur and Alfred on some of their future, smaller adventures.

**Peaches**

As an old dog during the main plot, she dies soon after Al's return peacefully. He and his parents bury her under the backyard tree that she'd once chased Matt up. The next time he visits he buries a peach pit there. It doesn't take, but it's the thought that counts.

**Kuma**

Although Matt visits him at the sanctuary whenever he's in town, the bear never seems to notice him. He lives long enough for all of Matt's children to be introduced to him, though, in some manner.

**The Camp**

Ludwig stays with his camp until death. Retirement's for pansies and French people. He never marries.

Jake spends another year or so there, then wanders off with Ludwig's blessing, bouncing around ski resorts and a stint as a wilderness firefighter before moving back to Australia. That lasts all of five minutes when he marries a girl on a whim and they have to leave the country to escape both of their families, neither of whom approve. They find a nice place in Nunavut, where the land is harsh and the license plates are shaped like polar bears, and have a long, happy life with a bucketful of kids.

Ed leaves the camp when summer hits to go back to Vancouver, but gets in trouble for his ventures into black hat territory and goes back to ground at the camp. The authorities never find him, but he continues his hacker escapades until he gets bored and decides to attempt a physical break-in. He almost gets away with it, too.

Lien goes to a British Columbia university for pre-med and joins the whitewater team and gets _really_ into it. She goes to the Olympic qualifiers with her four man crew at her peak, but they don't quite make the team cut. She still rows for exercise, but not competitively. She and Natalia spend a few years as roommates while she's in residence. Eventually she gets her PhD, proposing to her boyfriend of a year the night of, using the excuse that she just really wants to be called Dr. Dollar. He doesn't buy it, so he says yes. She opens a dentistry practice and tiger moms the hell out of their son.

**Feliciano/Lovino Vargas**

Feliciano and Lovino become brother-partner indie movie directors and do pretty well (not without a little help from Papa Rome, of course). They share everything, including Antonio. They also make friends with Gil, who does all of their movie scores until his death. They go to Sundance a few times, but never win anything of note.

**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo**

Toni stays in California, assimilating into the MLS easily and keeping a rather successful career in it, although whenever he plays for a country, he always goes to the Spanish team, since that is his natural heritage. He stays in California to be with his mother and his boyfriends/brothers. After Gil introduces him to Arthur again, he quickly loses his ingrained childhood fear of his old chemistry lab partner after seeing what he's become, and joins basically everyone else in teasing him incessantly just to get a rise out of him. Although he is Gil's stepbrother (and, just as quickly as their mothers got married, they get divorced in a rather nasty fashion, eventually ex-stepbrother), they are never particularly chatty about emotional issues, so when Gil's bucket list finally leads him to kicking the bucket, he is hit hard by it. He and Francis's relationship is never the same without their third leg, although they do keep in touch.

**Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland**

Alfred ends up going to the University of Arizona to major in astronomy and graduates with a minor in physics, and never leaves campus, getting his master's, then his doctorate, then going straight into teaching, all on the same campus. Yao is his first year roommate, but they have explosions of heated discussions when they actually talk to each other, and easily part ways when Alfred moves off campus with Arthur. After the producers of the Parisian sitcom fly him back over for one more guest appearance when his three-episode cameo arc bumps their ratings up a considerable margin, he stops acting, focusing on school. He does continue his study of languages in depth and breadth, until by the time he gets tenure, when he gets excited, frustrated, or just overall emotional, he speaks in a mix of every language he knows and loses his audience completely.

Arthur goes back to Oxford after the trip, but spends less and less time studying and more and more time working on his novel, started in NaNoWriMo but not nearly complete. Before his first term back is over, he starts sending the manuscript to publishers, and through sheer luck and a hell of a summary page, crafted in part by Magdalena, he gets a contract before his second term is over and drops out, moving to Arizona and a flat with Alfred pretty much as soon as he can pack his bags and make sure that he can keep his contract even if he lives out of the country. His first series, the four-book vampire pirate alternate universe Victorian romance series, is and was his biggest hit, and is what people associate with to his dying day because of its ability to appeal to any age and gender group. He does write under a sort-of penname, A.K. English, because a) the publishers initially believe that it will sell better to women and so would like his printed name to be ambiguous, and b) he is still on estranged terms with his family, and would rather not be put in the awkward position of having one of them track him down from his novels. He writes other things, as well, including a collection of Arthurian legend short stories and book reviews for online magazines, but most of his money flows in from that first series. (For the first few years of living with Alfred in Arizona, to help pay their bills, he bartends part time, where he meets most of Alfred's professors and, as his friends become of age, them, and even after they don't need the extra money and he needs the extra time to meet his editor's deadlines, he goes back and mixes a cocktail or two on occasion.)

Alfred's wisely invested salaries from his childhood acting days lasts all of his life as backup money and a long-term retirement investment. They add money when they can and take some out occasionally for vacations. They take all of the world-spanning vacations they talked about it their youth over time, plus more as they get new ideas for places to go.

After Alfred gets through grad school, they give in and buy a house on the outskirts of the city, and since Arthur's job can be done anywhere and Alfred is permanently attached to his alma mater, they never have a reason to move. They don't adopt or get married, although they do always have at least one dog and one cat around the house, if not more. While Matt's a drifter before his third wife, he comes down to visit them periodically, and when he finally settles down in Quebec, they trade Christmases at each other's houses. Alfred is the calmer twin's favorite uncle.

When Peter is sixteen, he comes and spends a summer with them, since he's starting to get into the surly teenager phase and his parents think he could use a change of pace to sort himself out. Al runs him ragged with hiking in the desert and the mountains a little farther north, and he and Arthur bitch at each other any chance they get.

As far as their love life goes, they are definitely each other's first choice, but their relationship is not monogamous, especially through their twenties. They even have a few threesomes with women that Alfred picks up in bars (one of them is one of his grad students, marine biologist major Victoria (Seychelles)), after Magdalena introduces them to this idea when she realizes she very much wants to sleep with Arthur, but doesn't want to break up their relationship; Alfred is always slightly jealous of how much more she naturally has in common with him. She suggests this when they're all drunk one night when she's visiting (to convince Arthur that he wants her to translate his original novels into Portuguese), and the next thing they know they're all in bed together.

As they get older and mellow out, though, the extra partners stop appearing in the house, until they're in their mid-thirties and realize they haven't slept with anyone but each other in a long time, and they're okay with that.

That's when they finally decide they're in love.

They have a long and very happy life together, Alfred teaching about stars and the universe while Arthur writes satire and historical analysis. They're both over ninety when they decide that it's their time to go, and go for one last camping trip. In the desert. In the winter. With minimal protection from the cold.

The next day, they're found by day hikers in a rigor mortis embrace (and naturally, those poor hikers are rather scarred for life), lying on an open sleeping bag and apparently watching the stars.

Arthur leaves his money to Peter's family, and Alfred to Matt's kids.

Alfred only gets more attractive with age, even when he gets white-haired, becoming the Indiana Jones in professor mode of the astronomy department. His eyesight suddenly drops at forty, and he has to wear glasses like his cousin – a fact that Matt never ceases to bug him about, drawing on years of annoyance over his own terrible eyesight and hatred of contacts. He dresses sloppily, no matter what Francis tries to do, but it works for him. His inability to stay inside for too long, plus his natural coloring, ensures that he's golden-skinned and shiny-haired all his life.

Arthur gives up trying to dress dark, since he spends most of his time writing around the house, and hides in soft sweaters and sweatpants the majority of the time. Next to Alfred, he looks plain, but he doesn't age poorly. Instead, he finally grows out of his baby face and into his eyes. He keeps his hair short pretty consistently after that big haircut in Paris, eventually developing a 'kids these days' stance about hair that is longer than a man's eyebrows. He also grows sideburns – not huge ones, of course, but they're there.


End file.
